To Push Back the Shadow
by Sci-Fi Nerd
Summary: AU fic in which Thrawn never got killed at Bilbringi. A treaty has been arranged, and the In'ca Din'ca and resistance are ready to strike, but will Thrawn be fooled for one deadly last time? finished
1. Prologue

Sci-Fi Nerd: I own none of the characters, ships, yada yada yada, except those of my own making.  
  
Prologue  
  
Wedge was waiting for his third pickup of the day when the news hit him. The crowded bar of Mos Eisley was not the universe's most distinguished place for a meeting, but hey, outlaws couldn't be fussy. The upholstery was bad, the drinks were worse, and the patrons themselves were about as rock-bottom as a sentient being could get.  
He'd been waiting for his third delivery of weapons for the day; Talon Karrde really knew how to run an underground organization for being just a simple smuggler. He'd already managed to secure enough spare parts to keep Wedge's boys' X-wings operating for at least another three months; and that was on top of securing a load of high-tech disintegrator rifles for the rest of Wedge's team the month previous. Those had been useful; they'd hit an Imperial armory on Rishi the week after, and the stormtroopers didn't even see the blasts that turned them into piles of ash. Karrde promised Wedge that as soon as they built up enough weapons in storage, he'd try to get a full fledged factory going on one of the asteroid hideouts they had going with General Bel Iblis.  
Anyways, the last man of the day had been just a little bit late, and Wedge had started to disobey his own first law of insurgency: never get distracted by your surroundings. He'd started to listen to the various conversations around him without any real intent of using what he heard, and by coincidence, he hit the jackpot.  
Two fat Duros merchants were talking in excited bubbling voices as they quaffed large mugs of clear ale that smelled like a ronto's backside. They looked fairly well off, and had a fat enough pocket that Wedge might have considered targeting them in a raid, but he wasn't paying attention to their wealth.  
"Did you hear?" one said to the other in a voice suggesting that what was about to be said was important on a par with the destruction of Alderaan. However, this time, unlike many times Wedge had heard that tone before, it was true. "Thrawn's taken Coruscant, and setting up a new Imperial government. Only there's no Emperor; only him."  
Wedge didn't wait to hear the rest. He slumped back in his chair, feeling a sense of loss that shouldn't have been there. He'd known, intellectually, that after Bilbringi, there was nothing to stop the Imperial mastermind from taking the Republic to its foundations, but somehow, a seed of hope had been allowed to thrive in his heart even then. Now, that was crushed. Grand Admiral Thrawn, the last and greatest of the Emperor's strategists, had beaten the New Republic. Surely the galaxy was lost.  
No. He mentally slapped himself, hard. There were still the foundations of a resistance, laid by Karrde, Bel Iblis, and many more of the generals and officers who had escaped Thrawn's net at Bilbringi. Wedge wondered vaguely about Admiral Ackbar. The Calamarian had indeed fled Bilbringi, but he had returned to Coruscant. Wedge wondered if he was dead. That would be a sore blow in the fight against the Imperial war machine.  
A man slid into the booth across from Wedge. He was tall, yet with nondescript features and a rumpled jumpsuit that seemed to fade into a crowd. His build suggested extensive physical training, and Wedge could see the stress on cloth of a blaster tucked into his armpit. He let his own weapons become ready, cocking his big toe in such a way that if he flexed in a certain manner, a small poison dart would be shot out of his boot and embed itself in his companion. He'd become an expert at such subterfuges since he'd gone outlaw.  
"You've got the delivery, then?" Wedge asked in a low voice, making sure none of the other seedy inhabitants of the bar could hear their conversation.  
"I'm not your delivery man," the man said with a hint of smugness that put Wedge right on edge. If he tried to arrest him or detain him, he'd find a dart in his belly soon enough.  
The man must have seen Wedge tense slightly, because he raised his hands in supplication, and even tossed his blaster, a small yet powerful hold-out model that Wedge hadn't seen before. Wedge picked it up, glanced at it, and then put it under the table, pointing at the man's midsection.  
"Talk," he commanded.  
"I'm an emissary to you from an alien race that lives in the area you call Wild Space," the man said softly, eyes shining with self-importance.  
"Uh-huh," Wedge said sarcastically, finger itching with the wish to blow this creep away and just get the hell out of Mos Eisley and off Tatooine. "And I should believe you why?"  
"There's a reason I'm so tall," he whispered. "Do you want visual proof?"  
Wedge got the man's implication, but he hesitated several seconds before nodding quietly and standing up. He put the hold-out in his waistband, and tossed the bartender a couple of Imperial coins. As much as he hated using that mint of money, posing as an Imperial citizen leant certain protective qualities in this turbulent atmosphere.  
Wedge let the man lead him out of the bar and into the glaring double suns of Tatooine's mid-day. The broiling heat immediately brought a sheen of sweat to Wedge's forehead, which was itself instantly absorbed by the intensely dry air. This cycle would continue until they found some sort of shelter from the sun.  
The broad boulevard that ran its way up to the cantina's door was deserted, but also pockmarked with alcoves and alleys. His strange companion chose a fairly narrow alley in which to reveal himself, and Wedge followed cautiously, digging out the blaster again, now that he was in an empty street.  
The two wedged themselves into the narrow alley, and for the first time, Wedge noticed something hanging at the man's belt: a small silver box studded with dials and switches. He glanced at the box, then at the man several times.  
"Yes, you see it," the man said. "Now watch." He fiddled with several of the switches, stabbed a button with his thumb, and then the holo-shroud dissolved to reveal his true nature.  
The alien stood more than two meters in height, covered with an oily black skin that gleamed even in shadow. His legs were incredibly long and triple jointed, so that he appeared to be crouching even when standing reasonably straight. Massive four fingered hands and arms descended from a barrel chest that was layered in strange patterns of muscle. Atop a squat neck, a beaked head alighted like a sea monster, filled with razor teeth in its maw and ringed by tentacles around a gaping mouth at the rear of his skull. Massive yellow eyes completed the nightmarish assembly of features.  
"Damn." was all Wedge could say. He was not overly given to swearing, but this sight took his breath away. "So you're really an alien?"  
The alien ripped away the holo-shroud device for an answer, and snapped it in two. His appearance remained the same. He then spoke in a deep voice, curiously flowing and smooth.  
"So you see? I am what I say I am."  
Wedge managed to croak, "Yeah, I'm beginning to understand."  
The alien bowed his large head in Wedge's direction. "We wish to assist you in your fight against this warlord you are opposed to."  
"You'd help us against Thrawn?" Wedge was profoundly honored and terrified in the same instant. "But the man's a genius! He'd rip your armies apart with his strategies like- like straws!"  
A rumbling chuckled emerged from the beaked mouth. "Not the In'ca Din'ca, I think."  
"Inka-what? That's what you call yourselves?"  
"Yes. I do not believe Thrawn, as you name him, has seen our kind before, therefore." The alien held out both hands in a gesture of expectancy.  
"He won't know how to counter you," Wedge marveled. It was as neat and helpful a package as he could have hope for. Of course there was still the possibility that it was all a setup.  
"You, of course," the In'ca Din'ca said wryly, "Still do not trust me. Therefore I ask you if you will take me to someone who I can explain this to again. I can prove myself to you, in time."  
"You have a ship?" Wedge asked, relenting. He'd take this guy to Karrde, who would decide if he was genuine and worth passing on to Bel Iblis for further inspection. With a hunted resistance like theirs was, you couldn't afford to be careless in your treatment of strangers. Every new member got the same interrogation/corroboration process, whether they'd been Republic or not.  
"I do," the big alien replied. "I suggest that we travel in tandem; I am correct in assuming you are going to take me somewhere, yes?" He spread his massive hands.  
"Yeah," Wedge grumbled, irritated at being forced into a decision like this one. Then he slapped his hand to his forehead and cursed loudly. "My pickup!"  
"Your delivery of weapons? They are stowed in my ship," the alien said smugly, and Wedge nearly pulled the blaster and shot him right then and there.  
"And how did they get into your ship?" he asked, voice coming very softly and dangerously. The blaster, he discovered, was already pointed at the alien's midsection, and Wedge's finger was putting very close to enough pressure to fire the weapon on the trigger already.  
"I suggest you not fire that weapon as yet," the alien cautioned. "Blasters are ineffective against my kind; something to do with our excretions, I believe. As to your weapons, I simply persuaded your man that he had been too late and that I would deliver them to your Captain Karrde myself. He seemed quite grateful to be rid of them, actually."  
Wedge hissed angrily and holstered the gun. It seemed he was getting more surprises than he had bargained for on this outing. Now, if only the alien was telling the truth, they'd be set.  
"Lead me to your ship," he commanded, and the alien set off dutifully out of the other side of the alley, emerging into the dust-laden air of the city streets without fear for his appearance. Wedge just hoped no hidden watchers had seen two men enter and then their odd pairing leave. "What's your name, if I can pronounce it?"  
The alien chuckled roughly. "Our tongue is difficult to learn by humans. I am Kenji Ba'sadahk. My rank in our military forces equates roughly to that of a Captain in yours. I deal with intelligence operations pertaining to galactic activities. That is why I have been sent to find your people."  
"Your intelligence seems very well informed," Wedge grumbled. He was still sore that they would be able to identify him, Karrde, his pickup, and their organization so easily. Obviously, they needed more work at concealment.  
"Do not be too irritated," Kenji said. "We have been masters of hiding our strength and prosperity for centuries. We knew exactly what to look for to find a hidden organization."  
Wedge felt a little better. Maybe this new race could teach them some more ways to hide out and strike more effectively at Imperial targets; especially now that Thrawn had defeated the Republic and would be able to focus on the resistance groups scattered across the galaxy. The largest battleship the resistance had at this time was a Dreadnought, and Wedge didn't think they'd last very long when Thrawn turned loose his Star Destroyers.  
Kenji's ship was hidden in a small hangar on the outskirts of Mos Eisley, and there appeared to be no stormtroopers guarding it. Kenji explained that a hefty bribe had gotten customs officials to declare it off limits to everyone except the owner.  
The ship itself was a thing of beauty. A tapering torpedo-shaped midsection, painted non-reflective black, was out-rigged by massive twin pods that contained cargo space and engines. Two gun arms were slung just underneath the nose of the vessel, and elegant fins bearing secondary thrusters arched up above the rear of the ship. The whole thing reeked of technological superiority and innovation.  
"What do you call her?" Wedge asked.  
"In your tongue, she would be the Stiletto," Kenji answered, gazing at his own ship with a sparkle in his massive, predatory eyes. "She is a wondrous craft, is she not?"  
Wedge opened his mouth to agree, but a blaster bolt roaring past his sleeve cut off his reply. Without looking behind him, he rolled for cover, coming up behind a misplaced cargo box against the wall of the bay. Yanking out the hold-out he'd taken from Kenji, he risked a glance over the box.  
Twelve stormtroopers formed a semi-circle at the doorway, and more were piling through into the chamber. It looked like at least four squads worth. Wedge cursed and prepared to sell his life dearly.  
Kenji stopped him.  
The big alien dove headfirst into the cluster of troopers, ignoring several high-powered blaster bolts that should have burned him down where he stood. Instead, the impacts glowed orange and then faded as if they were absorbed into him. Four troopers lay dead of claw slashes, and Wedge stood up to join the fight.  
The hold-out blaster was of an unfamiliar make, but the design was basically the same, though intended for bigger hands. It spat blue energy bolts that exploded against stormtrooper armor, pitching them backwards with unusual force and causing even more confusion.  
Keni brought out a comm as he backed off from the fight. Tapping open a frequency, he spat some burbling words into it, and then shouted, "Duck!" Wedge hit the floor, and then all hell broke loose.  
The gun arms on the underside of the Stiletto's nose swiveled and targeted the stormtroopers with a flood of blue energy bolts that combusted them where they stood and blasted large craters in the wall beside the door. Within three seconds, the guns fell silent, having no more targets to shoot at.  
"Come on!" Kenji growled, racing up a hidden ramp into the interior of his ship. "They'll have yours marked and impounded by now!"  
Cursing his misfortune but also wondering at the strategic impact of a possible alliance with a race like this, Wedge ran up the ramp into the alien ship.  
  
PLEASE REVIEW! CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM APPRECIATED, BUT NO FLAMES! -Sci-Fi Nerd 


	2. Chapter 1

Thanks to HotShot14 for your review (yes, the aliens are mine; I own them, I can destroy them, I am their governing power in the univer- ok, I'll stop)  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Luke Skywalker twisted his X-wing to the starboard side, dropping his velocity to one-quarter full and then gunning it for all he was worth. The TIE Interceptor behind him was caught flat-footed. As it roared past, cutting the throttle at a blistering rate, Luke caught it with a quad blast of his laser cannons. The Imperial ship blew into dust.  
"How we doing?" asked the voice of Corran Horn, one of Wedge's Rogue Squadron boys, and an upper level leader in the growing resistance to Thrawn's coming regime. Most of Rogue Squadron had managed to escape destruction at Bilbringi, and had thrown in with the resistance afterwards.  
"Pretty good, I think," Luke said. He stretched out with his senses for a brief moment. "No clone pilots left in the area."  
"That's a relief," the Corellian pilot said with a sigh. "The sooner we get rid of all those guys, the happier I'll be."  
"Agreed." Luke thought back to Wayland and the clone factory. Sure, they'd managed to wreck it, but who said Thrawn couldn't construct more, like he'd built his cloaking shield? The last thing the galaxy needed was another wave of clones in Thrawn's hands. After all, the last one had won the war for him, and they didn't need that again. Now that he didn't have an inexhaustible supply of soldiers, the resistance could rely on the principle of attrition again.  
"How's our timetable looking?"  
Luke jumped, looking unintentionally guilty at drifting off in the middle of space. That could get him and the rest of the X-wing pilots killed, and that would be a big blow to the resistance. That wasn't ego talking, but simple truth. They had few enough good leaders that to lose any one battle would be a horrendous loss for them.  
He checked his database. "We're still okay. I'm gonna wait another five minutes for the guy to show, but then we're gone." This delivery was late, a strange thing in itself. Luke supposed that if the men on the other end of the chain had run into customs trouble that might delay them, it could be explained away, but the men they hired were very good at dodging the patrols. He hoped the Imperials hadn't gotten to them. They couldn't afford to be found out at this stage of the resistance.  
"Incoming ship!" Corran barked over the comm system, and Luke shook himself out of daydreams and flicked all his systems to battle readiness. He saw the blip entering the system, but he couldn't see the vessel itself.  
"What kind?" Luke asked, still searching for some sign of their supplier's freighter.  
"Unknown," Corran said, "But it's big. Heavy freight size and well armed."  
Luke finally caught a glimpse of the black craft as it slid across the sky towards them, and he gasped in startlement and admiration.  
The main hull was a flattened cylinder with a dagger-pointed bow, studded with weapons pits. Two huge engines sat amidships on port and starboard, and they were braced by four curving wings that swept out from under and on top of them. The rear of the craft bulged into another cluster of engines glowing with a blue ion trail as it raced towards the X-wings. Luke had never seen a ship of this variety before, or anything that even came close to it.  
"S-foils to attack position," he ordered, swinging his starfighter about to bring him on an intercept course with the unknown intruder. "Prepare for evasive maneuvers."  
"Already done, boss," Corran said, and Luke noticed that he, too, was driving hard for the unidentified craft, laser cannons undoubtedly hot and ready to go.  
A crackle of static burst over Luke's comm system, and he slapped at the switch irritably.  
"Skyraider One," he called, a code name that would disguise him if any Imperials decided they would like to listen in on any conversations. No names were to be used on operations this deep into Imperial space.  
"Do not attack my ship, Skywalker," a bubbly voice demanded over the static-filled device. "I do not want to be forced to destroy you or your companions."  
Luke hissed under his breath, but called out on an all-bands frequency, "Break off the attack!"  
"What?"  
"You heard me, Two."  
"Roger."  
Luke turned back to the comm. "Satisfied, unidentified vessel?"  
"Thank you, yes." The pilot paused and seemed to consider something, then spoke again. "I am here to bring you a message and an offer."  
"An offer?" Luke said, confused but also suspicious. You never let your guard down when fighting in a rebellion. Never. "What kind of offer?"  
"It's actually an offer for your commander, General Garm Bel Iblis," the voice said, and Luke grew even more suspicious. How did he know that they were under the direction of Garm Bel Iblis? They didn't make their affiliations public knowledge. Whoever the pilot of the ship was, he had good contacts. "He is based near here in the Kessel Sector, is he not?"  
Luke ground his teeth together. This was getting annoying, and their unknown companion was getting a little too smug for his tastes.  
Obviously, Corran thought so, too. "Who are you?" he demanded of the ship. "How do you know all this? We're not taking you anywhere till we're sure of your identity and safety."  
"I suspected that it might come to this," the strange, bubbly voice said with resignation heavy in its tone. It seemed to have been expecting such a hostile reception. "My name, translated into your tongue, of course, is Hyasa El-doana. I am a member of the In'ca Din'ca race, and I come with an offer of alliance and assistance against the Grand Admiral Thrawn you fight against."  
  
I know this chapter's really short, but I promise you, the next one's longer! Keep reviewing! -Sci-Fi Nerd 


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
The Imperial Palace was a shambles. The massive bombardment of two days before that had taken the planet had reduced the edifice to a jumble of shattered wings and crumbling, half-melted towers. The ruins of the Republic governmental centre were unoccupied and desolate, slowly collapsing in on themselves from lack of structural integrity. No one who'd been in there after the shields went down had survived; there was now not enough space for even a rat to escape from that tangle of debris.  
The Senate building, on the other hand, was in fine condition. Imperial forces had been under strict orders to keep that out of the lines of fire, and being the well-trained forces the Empire had access to nowadays, they had succeeded admirably. Though the Senate was no longer a political entity, the major organs of government had been left relatively intact when the Senate building was spared, and so the smooth transition to new Imperial rule was accomplished swiftly and smoothly.  
Captain Pellaeon strode down the immense hall that led to Grand Admiral Thrawn's new chambers marveling at the ultimate success of their grand campaign. To be sure, they had lost the Wayland cloning facilities, and there were still nests of Rebels scattered about the galaxy, but the Empire was now in control again. It only remained to overwhelm the few remaining old-guard Republic worlds and begin patrolling the new sectors that they had control over, and the installation of a new Empire would be complete.  
Thrawn, Pellaeon knew, hated being land-locked in a groundside office for so long, but until a new governmental system had been set up and some directives regarding that to-be created entity, he would have to remain on Coruscant, directing the government from his office.  
The office itself was marked by a simple door very like the thousands of other doors within the vast chambers of the Senate building. A straightforward sheet of solid durasteel marked with a small golden plaque that read simply GRAND ADMIRAL THRAWN. It was a chilling contrast to the immense power the Grand Admiral himself wielded.  
Pellaeon stepped forward, feeling a twinge of the unease and awe he always felt when entering the presence of such a legend as Thrawn, and hit the entrance button. As usual, the door hissed open without comment to reveal the security lock within, a small chamber about two meters in dimension in every direction. Growling at what he knew he would find when he stepped in, Pellaeon moved forward.  
Nothing happened. Pellaeon looked carefully all around himself, a futile effort, he knew. He wouldn't see Ruhk unless the creepy alien wanted himself to be seen.  
"Captain Pellaeon," a voice mewed.  
From above him.  
Pellaeon dropped into a combat crouch instinctively, yanking out the hidden hold-out blaster concealed within the chest of his olive Fleet uniform and pointing it at the ceiling. There, braced against the conjunction of the back and front walls with the roof, was Ruhk, teeth bared and as gray and ugly as ever.  
"Damn it, Ruhk," Pellaeon snarled, "Why must you keep doing that? I'm not your prey; leave me be."  
"As I have said before," the impassive alien mewed, "Stalking must be practiced."  
"Not on me, it mustn't," Pellaeon growled, stepping forward to mash the entrance button on the second security door. It opened without comment, and Pellaeon stalked inside, leaving the gray assassin outside to continue his 'practicing'.  
Grand Admiral Thrawn's office bore great resemblance to the chambers he had converted into his own on board the Chimera, still the same duplicate of a Star Destroyer captain's chair seated in the center of a double ring of fantastical artwork displays from all over the galaxy, the source of Thrawn's tactical brilliance. Pellaeon didn't see how one could divine the innermost impulses and thoughts of an entire species from several little pieces of artwork, but the fact remained that Thrawn won his battles, and by a large margin.  
"What is it, Captain?" the smooth, rich voice of the Admiral inquired, and the glowing red eyes set in the bluish skin of his face lifted to stare at Pellaeon. Pellaeon felt some pride in being able to meet that gaze without flinching or lowering his eyes. Many in the Fleet could not.  
"Final report from Wayland, sir," he answered, handing a datacard to Thrawn that he'd pulled from his uniform's breast pocket. "Not much of interest, I'm afraid, just a post-explosion analysis."  
Thrawn held up one extremely long sapphire finger, his manner of extreme laziness. "Patience, Captain," he said softly, scanning the datacard with detached interest. "There may indeed be things of great interest here."  
Pellaeon nodded quietly, inwardly shaking his head. This was going to be another of those many occasions on which Pellaeon thought nothing of some small detail that Thrawn used later to win a battle. or a war. The Bilbringi attack rushed painfully into his mind. Pellaeon had been convinced of the Rebel's sham attack on Tangrene, and had argued eloquently for its defense. But Thrawn had chosen to ignore him and defend Bilbringi instead, and as a result, the war was won.  
"Interesting," Thrawn murmured suddenly, and Pellaeon came to full attention. Here it came.  
"What is it, Admiral?" Pellaeon asked excitedly.  
"Note the points the analysis team makes here," Thrawn said softly, pointing to a specific paragraph of the report on the datacard. "Part of the mountain was wracked by a very hot and violent explosion before the reactor was destroyed. Not of the type induced by small explosives, either."  
"Yes, I see, sir," Pellaeon said respectfully. He, of course, didn't see the significance, and Thrawn would undoubtedly point it out to him in a few seconds.  
"Most interesting," Thrawn said again. "It is proof that Skywalker and his cohorts were indeed there."  
"Sir?"  
Thrawn smiled. "I believe you know that when Dark Jedi die, they explode in a blaze of blue fire, or at least, that is the legend."  
Pellaeon nodded. There was as much Sith as Jedi literature and legend around the galaxy, and some of the stories mentioned the deadly explosions purported to consume the bodies of Sith adherents upon death. He'd always been skeptical of such legends, but if Thrawn said it, it was truth.  
"Such an explosion, then, is our culprit in the early detonation that destroyed the throne room chambers," Thrawn said with finality.  
"I'm sorry sir, I don't see-" Pellaeon began tentatively, and Thrawn cut him off with a lazy hand wave.  
"You know, Captain, that C'baoth was imprisoned in the throne room chambers," Thrawn said, a hint of impatience creeping into his tone. "We also know that Noghri, as well as Republic insurgents, were involved in Wayland's destruction. If C'baoth died there, Skywalker was there to do the job."  
"But the ysalamiri-"  
"I suspect the troops General Covell brought were ordered to remove or destroy the ysalamiri," Thrawn said, reduced once more to quiet meditation and contemplation. "Once C'baoth had his powers back, only a Jedi could have destroyed our tame Master."  
Pellaeon resigned himself to defeat. "Yes, sir."  
Thrawn smiled calmly up at his protégé, manner now metamorphosed into gentle superiority, the kind between a teacher and a student.  
"Patience, Captain," he said again. "You will learn much in time. Do not be disheartened if you do not fully comprehend as yet." His eyes hardened. "Reports on those unknown ships we've seen flitting around recently?"  
Pellaeon brought his personal datapad out of his breast pocket, a small, hand-sized device that contained every intelligence report the Chimera had received in the last 48 hours. It was an extensive list, and soon Pellaeon found what he was looking for.  
"Only one item of any interest, sir," he said, thumbing through the reports to make certain of his diagnosis. "One ship of unknown type or manufacture blasted its way out of Mos Eisley two days hence. Four squads of stormtroopers were killed in the firefight, but before he died, the group commander reported to the local garrison that one of the escapees was Wedge Antilles."  
Thrawn's eyes lit up with interest. "Ah, so Antilles has thrown his lot in with the disorganized terrorists that they hope to call a rebellion. Has Intelligence identified his ship?"  
"Already impounded and in transit to Coruscant for your personal examination, sir," Pellaeon said, consulting the datapad again. "And also, one ship of a size similar to an Interdictor cruiser flickered into the Coruscant system briefly, but was gone before the outer system patrols could get an accurate reading of it."  
Thrawn nodded. "Did the commander scan the area for dropped objects?"  
Pellaeon nodded his head. "No trace, sir."  
"Very well," Thrawn said. "Continue delivering reports and organizing reconstruction efforts in the capital, then, Captain. Once that is completed, we leave for the Bothan battle front." He looked up into Pellaeon's eyes, and despite himself, Pellaeon shivered with fear. "The final battles of the war await." 


	4. Chapter 3

Thanks to yaebginn for his review! I'm taking your suggestions to hear in this chapter! Please continue to review, everyone!  
  
--Sci-Fi Nerd  
  
Chapter 3  
  
The hangar of the asteroid base was small, spare, and filled with all manner of junked ships and parts that kept the resistance's patched together fleet flying. Narrow durasteel racks overhead kept the X-wings, TIEs, and other starfighters in good condition and out of the way of the bigger craft, while massive levitating refuel and repair blocks floated themselves out of the floor next to the docking slots when larger craft landed in the patched-together complex.  
The Stiletto just barely fit into a docking station reserved for medium freighters, and Wedge sighed with relief. They'd made it all the way back to the hidden Black Hole Base without being followed (or so Kenji said; however, Wedge was still keeping an eye on him) and now they could relax.  
Or not. Talon Karrde wasn't going to be happy at the unexpected visitor, especially of such an impromptu nature. The tale of blasting squads of stormtroopers to chunks to escape from Mos Eisley spaceport might alleviate some of his fears, but Wedge would lay his money on his alien companion getting a full interrogation.  
The instant the Stiletto finished powering down, despite Wedge's transmission of the correct 'all-clear' signals, a group of well-armed and roughly dressed mercenaries surrounded the visible exits of the craft, two of them sporting PLX-2M missile launchers, fully loaded. The chip missiles wouldn't do much against the Stiletto fully powered, but if they got inside the ship, there would be hell to pay.  
The ramp lowered with a smooth hiss of hydraulic fluids, and Wedge debarked first, hands held up in a placating gesture as he descended, boots clinking smoothly. The mercenaries stiffened, and then relaxed, smiling, but the weapons didn't lower.  
"Son of the Sith!" someone burst out, and Wedge turned to see Kenji striding boldly down the ramp, minus holographic disguises, as if he owned the base. A couple of fingers twitched on blaster rifle triggers, but Talon Karrde's barked order as he entered the bay cut them off.  
The smuggler captain's eyebrows were raised in astonishment as he moved towards Wedge, but the set of his shoulders and chin told the starfighter pilot and outlaw that he was in for a verbal beating.  
"What in the nine Corellian hells is that thing doing here?" Karrde hissed quietly to Wedge, throwing a patently false smile at his new guest. "More to the point, what is he?"  
Wedge searched for words for several seconds, but again, just like back on Mos Eisley, Kenji saved him again.  
"I am an ambassador, Captain Karrde," the big alien explained smoothly. "My race wishes to join the fight against Grand Admiral Thrawn."  
Karrde turned a skeptical gaze on Kenji's massive form. His narrow black goatee clenched as his jaw stiffened, and his arms crossed standoffishly over his chest. "Indeed?" he snorted in disbelief. "And I suppose you have something that we can just point at Thrawn and eradicate him, I suppose?"  
Kenji seemed to smile, a wicked baring of his slicing teeth that made Wedge inch almost invisibly away from the big alien. Smiles like that made Wedge think of a hunting vornskr, and with Kenji's body type, he was sure the comparison wasn't that amiss.  
"Nothing so grand," the In'ca Din'ca said. "But the Grand Admiral knows nothing of our race as yet, though we have begun to probe him. I suspect we have a very narrow window of opportunity in which to act."  
Karrde surveyed him again, his gaze more thoughtful. Finally, he nodded and turned sharply, beckoning for Wedge and Kenji to follow.  
"We'll talk in my office," he said.  
  
Karrde's office was a small space, though larger than many of the other quarters in the tiny asteroid hideout. It was appointed with the smuggler's legendary capacity for luxury, all done in Cardooine wood with soft Thyferran wall hangings, and at least two genuine Corellian flame miniature sculptures undulating in the corner. Four chairs surrounded a clearplaz desk with an inset holo display and one miniaturized HoloNet terminal. Karrde sat in front of the computer and beckoned for Wedge and Kenji to sit. The two did, avoiding eye contact with one another. For the moment, Wedge regretted leaving Mos Eisley with the alien.  
"Now," Karrde said amiably, though the hint of an edge could be detected in his cultured voice, "let's start with some news and an offer to our prospective friend here."  
"News?" Wedge broke in before Karrde could say anything. "I overheard that Thrawn had taken Coruscant, just before Kenji and I burned out of Mos Eisley."  
Karrde shook his head sorrowfully. "This is newer than that, though sadly, Coruscant has indeed fallen. No news of how bad the destruction was at this time."  
"What about Admiral Ackbar?" Wedge asked anxiously. Though his entrance into the resistance was technically an act of rebellion and severance against the New Republic, he still counted the Admiral among his friends, and had hoped that he'd made it off the planet and out of the system before Thrawn was victorious.  
Karrde grimaced. "He's still alive, for the moment. He took four Star Cruisers and set course for Bothawui after the Coruscant Debacle, and he's still coordinating defense of that area. There's little doubt that Thrawn will strike there; it's the last free refuge of the New Republic worth fighting for. No other planets give serious strategic or economic value to the New Republic, or whatever remains."  
Karrde turned and focused his gaze on Kenji. "Which brings me to the offer. General Garm Bel Iblis and I are planning an operation to hit the Bothawui attack force when it hits the planet. If you want to prove yourself, you might consider offering whatever assistance you can."  
Before Kenji could reply to that, the comm beeped insistently on Karrde's desk. Irritated, the smuggler slapped at the switch.  
"What? I told you not to disturb me!"  
The voice issuing out of the speaker was authoritarian and familiar, with hints of strain, curiosity and excitement mixed into it.  
"Captain Karrde, this is Grandfather Lead," said the speaker, and Wedge's heart leapt. That was Bel Iblis' code name, and it sounded like the aging general had important news. "I've just concluded a short conversation with an alien visitor who claims to be an emissary of some sort, and he's said that he's got a companion on your end of things."  
Kenji straightened, about to speak, but Karrde cut him off with a viciously slashing hand and a warning glare that set off a low growl in Kenji's throat. Obviously, Karrde wanted more from Bel Iblis.  
"Really," Karrde said amiably. "What sort of alien?"  
"Real nasty bugger," said Bel Iblis. "Never seen his type before. Big mouth full of teeth, two plus meters tall, weirdly jointed legs, claws, muscles, tentacles- a real piece of work."  
Karrde breathed a heavy sigh into the comm. "You can relax, or relatively so, Grandfather," he explained. "I've got one here, and if it's a scam, it's a good one. I've offered them a place in Operation Phalanx Guard, but we've yet to discuss it."  
"Thank you, Captain," Bel Iblis said. "Continue with my authorization, we'll work out the details later. Out." A fizzle of static marked the general's departure from the supposedly secure hypercomm waves.  
Karrde turned back to Kenji, and Wedge sighed in relief. He had been half afraid the two stories would differ enough to cause an outbreak of violence, and having seen what Kenji could do, that wasn't something he particularly wanted to see.  
"Well, my friend," Karrde said, "you have a choice now, since you appear to be legitimate. What'll it be?"  
The In'ca Din'ca smiled toothily again, and Wedge caught a glimpse of what it would be like to face one of these aliens in combat on the ground. Definitely not a thought to dwell on or an idea to entertain as a good thing. He was glad the aliens appeared to be on their side.  
"We will offer all the assistance we can," Kenji said. "In fact, we have been preparing for just such an eventuality. If you will allow me two hours to contact my reinforcements, we can begin planning the details."  
Karrde nodded. "Very well. I'll have Dankin show you your guest quarters." A quick page and a whispered conversation solved that problem, but Wedge still felt uneasy. Karrde appeared to have agreed far more easily than was normal for him, and that had Wedge suspicious.  
Once Kenji had left, Wedge turned questioning eyes on Karrde, his body asking his questions for him.  
"Yes, a most interesting development," Karrde mused, pretending to ignore him for several seconds. "You wonder why I agreed that easily."  
Wedge fidgeted, not wanting to question his superior but dying to know the answer to the riddle inside. "As a matter of face, I would like to know."  
Karrde turned the computer's display panel towards Wedge, showing him a timeline that he'd obviously been surreptitiously generating the entire time he was conversing with Bel Iblis and the others.  
"Note the sequence of events, Commander," he said in a lecturing tone. "Bilbringi falls; the resistance begins its activites, all within a month. Here, two months later, Coruscant falls, and two days later, our 'emissaries' arrive. Note that these emissaries already know much about our battles, and even something about our enemy, and our very schedules within the resistance."  
Wedge whistled softly. "They've been planning this for a long time. If they wanted, they could have helped earlier."  
"Yes," Karrde said grimly. "This begs the question: what do they really want?"  
"It does, doesn't it?" Wedge mused, and he couldn't find an answer, which troubled him.  
  
The high-security broadcast, shielded from Republic scanners and built into the fastest hypercomm available to its manufacturers, was completed, fixed with an approval seal, and transmitted to a location far within Wild Space within an hour after Kenji finished his undetected diagnostic and copying of Black Hole Base's files. The recipients of the broadcast quickly updated the orders hard-wired into the Stiletto's data banks, and sent an additional two hundred typed lines of instructions back to the hidden receiver. 


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
Pellaeon was studying the tactical readouts and approximations of the Bothawui system when Thrawn entered. Pellaeon had always loved the simulations and war games that preceded battles, relished all the fight without actual destruction. Unlike most soldiers, he did not perceive a need to throw away lives for simple tactical ploys.  
According to their last scout and spy reports, Admiral Ackbar had been put in command of the Bothawui defense; or rather, had assumed command. The New Republic was reduced to mostly a few high-level military officers and several desk-bound bureaucrats who didn't know the first thing about war. Generally, what was left of the New Republic was a martial government.  
The Bothawui system was heavily defended, being an important economic as well as military concern for the Republic. A massive array of planetary shield generators protected the world in one of the most advanced systems of its time, and ground-to-orbit cannons were not uncommon on the rich planet.  
Ackbar had arrayed the twelve Star Cruisers of his main fleet in a shield pattern facing towards the only hyperspace entrance that Thrawn could use to get close to the planet without being detected. That was expected, and Pellaeon knew Thrawn had something up his sleeve to take care of that. The rest of the Rebel fleet was mainly composed of Nebulon-B class frigates and a few Victory class Star Destroyers arrayed as close to the planetary shield as they could get. The only thing that puzzled Pellaeon was the quantity of ships present. There were more combat ships available to defend the planet, he was sure of it. The situation looked and smelt like a trap.  
"Captain?" Thrawn said smoothly, striding up to stand tall at his protégé's side, glancing at the displays only briefly. "Any new developments at our target?" He seemed curiously aloof, the kind of calm which usually signaled a tough decision that also usually paid for its risk threefold. The last time Pellaeon had seen Thrawn do it, they'd destroyed two Rebel sector fleets at Bilbringi and gone on to win the war.  
He shook himself out of his recollections, and slowly shook his head in the negative. "None, sir," he said speculatively. "Almost as if they know we're coming but aren't willing to budge or change their battle plan."  
"Of course they know we're coming," Thrawn said chidingly, "The difference is, they don't know where or when." A grin seemed to hover about his features, transforming them into the picture of a benevolent demon about to pounce.  
"Sir?" Pellaeon asked, confused. If they weren't coming in from the one alley available to them, then how.?  
"I've looked at our various reports, not all of them our spies. Some mercenaries have seen the light in reporting to us directly, and sometimes offer more reliable information," Thrawn said quietly. "There are no Rebel forces within the distance or at the right locations to make a difference in the fight. They are all seemingly misplaced for assistance, far away from the battle."  
"That's ludicrous, sir," Pellaeon protested. "Ackbar's smarter than that."  
Thrawn smiled again. "Indeed he is," he said. "That's why I think we can kill two birds with one stone on this attack."  
"Sir?"  
Thrawn began a slow circumnavigation of the display, gazing up at the tiny holo-images of the ships orbiting around the gigantic planet, shield shimmering with deadly power.  
"Now, we can assume, obviously, that there is a trap somewhere in here," Thrawn said patiently, a tone Pellaeon heard far too often. He wondered vaguely if he'd ever grasp the full measure of his superior's mind. He chuckled internally. Not in his lifetime, he wouldn't. "The question is, of course, where do the trapping elements come from?"  
Then Pellaeon got it, and he twisted an eyebrow in incredulity. "Surely you don't mean you think the resistance is going to attack?"  
Thrawn also raised an eyebrow in query. "Why not? They have nothing to lose; they might even consider me overconfident enough to look over such a venture as impossible."  
Pellaeon thought hard, but couldn't get his head around the idea. "Surely they have enough experience with your tactical coups to know that you'd automatically assume that you would be prepared for such a venture."  
Thrawn nodded slightly. "But I do expect that," he said knowingly, and with a serene self-confidence that made Pellaeon shiver and set himself on the defensive. That tone had always drawn a wall of resistance from him, and even Thrawn's brilliance couldn't expunge that from him.  
"Then what-?" Pellaeon started to ask, but Thrawn had already moved on to the answer to that question.  
"You recall the various reports of unknown vessels flickering around the borders of our spy networks and military outposts, never remaining long enough to be adequately analyzed?" Thrawn asked, as if directing Pellaeon slowly through every step of the calculations that he'd probably managed in about four seconds.  
"Of course," Pellaeon answered, growing more doubtful by the minute. "You think the resistance.?"  
"Oh, no," Thrawn said. "I believe that the resistance is expecting me to assume that all the activities are coordinated, and plan accordingly. If I assume this new type of vessel, and probably unknown species is connected to the resistance, and I am over-cautious in planning an attack, then they have a window of opportunity in which to lay other plans. If, on the other hand, I attack Bothawui with overmuch force, expecting to lay waste to both forces, Rebel and resistance, I leave vulnerable other potential targets."  
"Then your orders are.?" Pellaeon wanted to know. All this seemingly flimsy reasoning was leaving him floundering.  
Thrawn smiled slightly, an even more terrifying expression than his glare of unsuppressed rage. "We do the unexpected, of course," he said. "I have already sent orders by secure hypercomm to the Corellian garrison to ready for an attack upon the nearby Sullust system, still held by the Republic, which will draw attention away from Bothawui as well as weaken what remains of the Republic's economic base. If they rush to defend, we strike Bothawui, hard. If not, we wait for a twitch from the resistance, and pinpoint their locations." His red eyes seared into Pellaeon, sending a chill up his spine. "We win either way."  
  
Wedge quite agreed with Karrde that having reinforcements of a size sufficient to assist in a full-fledged fleet battle was unusual for an emissary, especially when the emissary is entering into an alliance with a nearly beaten comrade in arms. Not that he didn't wish for the assistance to be given, no; he just wished that he could be able to trust the slippery new alien compatriots.  
The reinforcements were impressive, however.  
Karrde was at first convinced that the arriving battleships were an Imperial invasion force set on destroying the resistance. The entire base crew had not been expecting the six battleships of a size with an Imperial Star Destroyer, plus fifteen smaller cruisers equivalent to a Carrack cruiser in size and firepower. The first messages from the outer system spy outposts had been one of panic. By the time Kenji had corrected Karrde on his error, half the base had been roused and implementing the evacuation plan, leaving the In'ca Din'ca none too abashed at the lack of warning he'd given.  
The larger warships were massive, teardrop shaped black hulls studded with aerodynamic (or aqua-dynamic) protrusions. One massive airfoil thrust out from the underside of the ships, capped with a long skid of some kind. Two smaller foils extended like clipped wings on the forward portion of the massive spacecraft, and the twin ion engines tucked their way under the dagger-pointed rear of the battleships.  
The smaller ones were similar to the Stiletto in general style of design, sporting four large weapons and engine pods surrounding a central spine and bulging head. Fins with banks of maneuvering jets swept out behind the cruisers, and their agility was demonstrated in the complex defense formation they performed around their motherships in the centre.  
"Emperor's black bones," Wedge breathed in an awed tone as he surveyed the simple 'diplomatic reinforcements' that Kenji had conjured up from deep space. It was as impressive an armada as any two of the resistance's meager task forces. The scattered outlaws were badly deficient in the battleship department, and the largest ship they could boast of possessing was a battered Victory class Star Destroyer taken from the Rim garrisons.  
"Indeed," Karrde said quietly. He lowered his voice still further, pitching it for Wedge's ears alone. "I believe that our new 'friends' bear even more watching than I had suspected."  
"You're right about that," Wedge fumbled, still startled by the sheer size of the In'ca Din'ca fleet. "Why take an entire system task force on a simple diplomatic envoy mission? Unless of course you're planning to use it anyway."  
Karrde glanced sideways. "You suspect them of plotting an overthrow of the resistance? As an entrance present to Thrawn, perhaps?"  
Wedge shook his head. "I'm just afraid that we're dancing to someone's tune, and I don't like it."  
Karrde sighed. "Neither do I." Then he straightened. "Well, I believe it's time to contact our new arrivals. We can't hope to hide from them now, even if they are planning something dangerous." He waved to a young man sitting at the hypercomm station. "Open a tight-beam channel to the alien ships-" he looked back at Kenji. "-on a frequency our friend here will provide you."  
The In'ca Din'ca, oblivious to Karrde's sarcastic tone, stepped forward and reeled off a set of frequency adjustments and power requirements. The technology his race used was obviously similar to the resistance's, but operated at a different power spectrum, and used odd configurations and ways of getting things done.  
When the adjustments were completed, the man flicked several switches, and gave Karrde the thumbs-up sign. Karrde stepped forward, barely halting a deep breath of nervousness as he did so.  
"In'ca Din'ca battle fleet, this is Captain Karrde of Black Hole Base," he called somewhat hesitantly. For all he knew, only Kenji spoke their language fluently. What if they couldn't communicate?  
  
Of course, that was a vain fear. Before Karrde could get out a suitable welcoming message, an earsplitting burst of static erupted from the comm, and then a burbling voice, smooth and deep in the bass range, emitted from the speakers.  
"Captain Karrde, this is First Huntsman Ri'josan of the hunt-ship Lo'quaa," it said authoritatively, and Wedge winced at the superior tone. Command hierarchy was unorganized in the resistance, and anyone taking that tone with anyone unless it was the General or Karrde soon got slapped down. "I command the Fifth Seeking of the In'ca Din'ca Commune, and I am most pleased to make your acquaintance." That last was said with enough hesitation that Wedge figured the alien was attempting to use a human phrase he did not understand.  
Karrde got the subtlety too, but chose to ignore the slip in manner. "What's a. Seeking? First Huntsman? I'm sorry, but we don't understand these titles," He said apologetically. Wedge guessed that he understood perfectly well, but this was a test of how well the alien commander would share and cooperate with the resistance.  
"Forgive me," First Huntsman Ri'josan said. "My title is similar to a starship captain of your organization, and a Seeking is nearly identical in meaning to the word 'armada' in your language."  
"Thank you," Karrde said obsequiously, "My understanding is complete, now. Do you wish to come aboard our station?"  
The comm man interrupted him. "I'm sorry sir, but that's not possible now."  
Karrde turned angrily on the young outlaw. "What's that supposed to mean?"  
First Huntsman Ri'josan beat the comm officer to it. "It's an Imperial patrol force, a rather significant one," he said.  
"And it appears to be coming this way." 


	6. Chapter 5

Sorry for the signed review error, guys! Fixed it now, so keep the reviews coming! Thanks to yaebginn, who's been keeping steady with the reviews all the time! Hope you're ready for some more Thrawn.  
  
-Sci-Fi Nerd  
  
Chapter 5  
  
Luke sighed almost imperceptibly as Bel Iblis closed the comm channel with a decisive flick of a long finger. He had been trying to tell the aging General that he had sensed no deception from the alien emissary, but Bel Iblis wanted better proof. Apparently, he'd gotten it. Maybe now they could get back to the issues at hand.  
General Bel Iblis looked the part of the venerable, dangerous old military genius that he was; thin face and weathered skin combined with thinning hair made him an imposing figure when added to his height, and his eyes glinted like fragments of durasteel. He turned back to Hyasa El-doana with a little less tension evident in his body frame and general sense.  
"Well, then, Ambassador, it seems that you are telling the truth," he said, only letting a slight disappointment leak out in his voice. He'd probably been looking forward to kicking an alien troublemaker out of the base entirely. "Now, what are your terms and suggestions for such an alliance?"  
Luke, just then, caught a slight hint of something odd from Hyasa El- doana. It was something like. relief, mixed with a hint of triumph. Not an emotion normal people displayed when they've been telling the truth all along and just been vindicated. He decided that maybe there was a certain amount of need to keep an eye on this alien ambassador.  
The In'ca Din'ca leaned forward across the small conference table, his massive body allowing most of his torso to appear above the rim of the table. Sharp teeth shone in a friendly grin as he spoke.  
"We don't have any specific terms for the beginning of such an alliance," said El-doana softly, in a tone that almost said we know you're poor and weak, but we'll put up with you for now. General Bel Iblis' eyebrows lowered, not a good sign. "Once we have more territorial gains and structure, however, we would hope that you would allow us one-fourth of the systems you take back from the Imperials, or else something of equal value. Weapons and ships, perhaps, or maybe trade arrangements."  
Bel Iblis nearly exploded. "You want our systems?"  
El-doana flinched and hastened to clarify his position. "Not all of them, General. If you prefer, we would take the small, the relatively backwater, and unpopulated areas. The galaxy is too big a place to be managed by one government."  
Bel Iblis sat back down, his guard up now. "We'll see. For now, I'd like to see what you can offer us as purely military allies."  
El-doana bowed his head in acquiescence. "We thought you might," he said. "Therefore, I have been authorized to take you, and up to fifty others in armed men and equipment, back to our home planet of Din'cash."  
Luke and Bel Iblis exchanged surprised glances. "In Wild Space?" the general asked incredulously. "But there could be a thousand bitter enemies and threats in there."  
"What?" El-doana laughed. "Oh, forgive me. You haven't explored Wild Space yet, have you? No, there are no credible threats. We've destroyed them all."  
  
Wedge was in the cockpit of his X-wing less than two minutes after Black Hole Base first identified the Imperial interlopers. The engine was on a slow warm-up process constantly (standard procedure at the hidden base), and in less than three minutes, the fighter was soaring out of the hidden docking bay, weapons fully charged and hot to fire.  
Wedge glanced around. Rogue Squadron, or the rest of it, was currently with Bel Iblis at their main base, so he had no backup that he knew. However, at least six E-wings and a number of modified Cloakshape fighters were also roaring out of the bay at top speed. He counted eight Cloakshapes, bringing their total number of pilots to fifteen.  
"Calling all fighters," Wedge barked into his comm, checking his fuel levels and nodding at the full symbol on the crystal display graph. "This is Wing Commander Wedge Antilles, do you copy?"  
"We copy, Antilles," a guttural voice growled into the comm, "My fighters are with you."  
"As are mine," a reedy Rodian whistle seconded. All of the other starfighters formed up on Wedge's X-wing fairly harmoniously, and started a hard drive towards the nearly engaged In'ca Din'ca and Imperial battleships.  
The In'ca Din'ca had switched to a formation that resembled a waterspout, with the outer rim and inner point at the foremost part of the formation. The small cruisers made up the forward portions, and the battleships (hunt-ships, Wedge reminded himself) bulked behind their smaller forms. Already, the largest cruisers were disgorging slim dart- shaped fighters that quickly oriented on the incoming Imperial forces.  
Three Imperial-Class Star Destroyers were coming swiftly up out of their standard patrol formation, but seemed undecided about how to proceed. Their escorts, five Lancer class frigates, seemed steadier, and settled into protective positions around the Destroyers.  
"Well, that's torn it," Wedge growled through his clenched teeth. The Lancers, with their twenty quad laser turrets, were the deadliest anti- starfighter ship in the business, and made it almost impossible for even experienced pilots to move in and damage the bigger ships.  
A rougher Rodian curse rang out. "I see them," the Rodian hissed irritably. "Now what?"  
"We fight," said the earlier growling voice; Wedge supposed it was a Trandoshan or a Klatooinian. "I count twenty four TIEs inbound."  
"Normal TIE Fighters?" Wedge asked, checking his board. The Imperials seemed to have noticed his little band of starfighters, and were coming. That was okay with Wedge; as long as they were normal TIEs, even this ragtag group should be able to deal with them quite adequately.  
"Uh, the computer seems a bit uncertain-" he broke off in mid- sentence. Wedge's R2 astromech tootled fearfully, and Wedge agreed silently with the droid's pessimistic remarks. They were in trouble. "It's confirmed. Twelve TIE Interceptors and twelve bombers inbound. Wait a sec-"  
Wedge hissed in fury. "I see it," he said. The TIE bombers, unwieldy craft that couldn't take the punishment an X-wing could dish out, were staying far away and setting up for missile locks on the fast-moving E- wings of Wedge's group. "Evasive maneuvers. Take them apart."  
The TIE Interceptors came in on an angle, staggered in trios. The first three flew straight at Wedge, pouring green laser darts from their wingtip cannons. Wedge threw himself into a rolling spin, spraying out a few random shots as well. Quickly, he flicked over to proton torpedoes and launched a pair blind.  
The spinning of his fighter prevented the collapse of his shields and probably his destruction, while the Interceptors didn't even see the torpedoes arriving. The lead fighter caught one of the projectiles dead-on, and shattered in a roiling explosion. The blast damaged both the remaining craft and sent one of them whirling off out of control into the reaches of deep space.  
E-wings had been originally developed to combat the threat of faster and more maneuverable Imperial ships like the Interceptor and brand-new TIE Advanced. As such, they were admirably suited to killing the shieldless Interceptors. Four of the TIEs died in the first three seconds of combat, and one E-wing succumbed to a pair of long-distance concussion missiles on a weakened aft shield.  
Wedge threw his fighter into a skid as another wing-pair of the TIEs came after him. The two ships roared uselessly past, and two Cloakshapes blew one to dust and drove the other one away.  
"Thanks," Wedge breathed. A double comm click answered him, and Wedge smiled at the tight discipline that hearkened back to the glory of the New Republic. That sobered him again.  
The combat quickly melted into a slaughterhouse of the more vulnerable TIE Interceptors, due mainly to the speed and power of the E- wings on Wedge's side. The TIE bombers quickly fled the scene once the more dangerous opponents had been destroyed, and Wedge gave orders not to pursue.  
The battle between the In'ca Din'ca 'Seeking' and the Imperial forces was not a long one. The brawl was quick and easy; the Imperials only destroyed one cruiser and escaped into hyperspace towing the disabled hulk of an In'ca Din'ca battleship; a wretched loss, to be sure, but the In'ca Din'ca had eliminated all the Lancers and one of the Star Destroyers in twenty minutes.  
The first demonstration of camaraderie in battle helped to alleviate some of Wedge's fears about their new ally's trustworthiness. That is, until he reconnected with Talon Karrde.  
  
Captain Dorja arrived back on Coruscant two hours before the Sullust operation was to go off; bearing the massive bulk of the dead enemy battleship, burned straight through in five places, yet still intact and ready for examination. However, Thrawn was not pleased at the loss of most of Dorja's force and the relatively little gain it had brought them.  
Of course, that was until he analyzed the data banks.  
Pellaeon found the Grand Admiral in his spartan office, as was usual before a campaign. The holographic artwork that traditionally dominated the scene was present in far fewer amounts at this time, however. Only four pieces were arranged in a diamond pattern on the surface of Thrawn's desk; the main theme of the sculptures seemed to be whatever the artist felt would disgust his audience more in their subconscious. Mainly, they formed odd conjunctions of smooth curves, dotted in some places with holes, from which sprang wavy tendrils of some green substance. Pellaeon shuddered to look at them.  
"Sir?" he asked Thrawn tentatively. "Captain Brandei reports all is ready for the Sullust operation."  
Thrawn didn't respond, and continued staring at the sculptures in a lazily focused manner.  
"Sir?" Pellaeon tried again, leaning forward to move into the Grand Admiral's field of vision. "We've finished the hypercomm installation, and Captain Brandei says he's ready to launch." Still nothing. "Admiral?"  
The lean, predatory face rose from its lowered position, the red eyes gleaming with victory. "Ah, yes," Thrawn exulted quietly. "I see." He quickly entered whatever it was he'd identified into a datapad on the surface of his desk, and then deigned to look up at Pellaeon. "I heard you, Captain."  
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon said. "I'll leave you to-"  
"No, no," Thrawn broke in. "Do stay. This promises to be most rewarding." He waved a long finger at some hidden device, and a galactic map sprang up, accompanied by the depiction of a curious alien with a peculiar resemblance to a squid on a hairless Wookie's body. "You recall the unidentified ships that we've seen poking around our systems?"  
"Yes-" Pellaeon started to say, and then floundered to a halt. "You mean.?"  
"They are indeed a brand new species," Thrawn said quietly. "Apparently, they live in an area of Wild Space, and are not extremely prevalent in galactic affairs until this point in time."  
Pellaeon understood, nodding his head. "That's their artwork," he said, pointing to the repulsive figures on the desk. "You've been studying them."  
"Good, Captain," Thrawn said. "I was, alas, only able to find four representations among the captured ship's databanks of any adequate art, yet it is most revealing."  
"Are they enemies, then?"  
Thrawn's eyes glittered coldly. "Indeed. They decimated Captain Dorja's command and repelled an Imperial patrol force in the Borleais system."  
Pellaeon hissed angrily. "They've joined the Rebels."  
Thrawn nodded slowly, his expression deadly. "They have, or are preparing too. However, I believe that with more data, we can easily defeat these new invaders. Fear not.  
"Captain, tell Captain Brandei to launch. We have a system to take and a war to win." 


	7. Chapter 6

Wow, sorry for not updating in such a long time, guys, I've had so much homework and rehearsals recently! Anyway, here's your next chapter! (sorry for the length, but the next one after is longer! Anyway, you guys deserve something to read!)  
  
-Sci-Fi Nerd  
  
Chapter 6  
  
The attack on Sullust was swift and brutal, conforming to the usual style of Imperial assaults since Thrawn had taken over the strategies and operations of the Empire. Sixteen Victory class Star Destroyers emerged from hyperspace at top speed, ringing the planetary equator in an impressive display of firepower. Three of the four Golan stations that defended the industrial world were crippled by massive concussion missile strikes before they could calibrate turbolasers for a defensive assault. Twenty Katana Dreadnoughts and four Imperial Star Destroyers completed the force.  
Sullust had once been a heavily fortified world, but with all defenses, or most of them, assigned to Bothawui in the wake of Coruscant's fall, it had fallen into disrepair, a perfect target for the ambitious Imperials. Only four Nebulon-B frigates and twelve heavily modified Corellian Corvettes remained to defend the planet. All the frigates immediately jumped to hyperspace, but only five of the Corvettes followed suit, the other seven converging on one cluster of three Victory Star Destroyers and immolating one in a flood of double turbolaser blasts. They were quickly dispatched by the remaining two's missile launchers.  
Within less than two hours, the last of the defenses were breached, and the capital was on fire. It took another two hours before the defenders conceded defeat and the whole system surrendered unconditionally to the Empire.  
  
The Fifth Seeking of the In'ca Din'ca Commune was poised to do a mass hyperjump like slugthrower projectiles straight into the Bothawui system when the news arrived.  
Wedge had nearly fallen asleep in the cockpit of his X-wing while waiting for confirmation that the Bothawui system was under attack and the resistance forces could jump in to strike at the Imperial fleet. Most of the resistance's starfighters and small ships had been loaded onto the In'ca Din'ca cruisers just to save space; ships like the Cloakshape fighters or older Y-wing classes didn't have a hyperdrive.  
All of a sudden, a group of capital ships composed of Nebulon-B attack frigates and Corellian Corvettes leapt into the system with a quick flicker. Scanners showed weapons to be hot and ready, and Wedge was already powering up for a quick assault when his comm exploded with a frantic message.  
"Calling any New Republic ships in the area!" the voice was high- pitched with terror, cracking and strained from hours of shouting orders. Wedge checked his comm board again, and then realized all of the newcomers were Republic battleships. "This is Captain Larson of the frigate Battle of Endor! We've just come from Sullust and urgently require assistance!"  
Wedge flicked on his comm system before any of the other befuddled officers could. "This is Wing Commander Wedge Antilles of the resistance and In'ca Din'ca forces. What's the situation, captain?"  
"Thank the fates!" Larson sounded like he'd run a marathon in ten minutes flat, heaving and gasping and coughing like an old man. "Sullust has fallen; Thrawn showed up with a fleet of Victory class destroyers and stormed the planet. We're all that's left of the defenses!"  
Karrde's voice broke onto the line. "Captain Larson, this is Captain Karrde. We have facilities for small-scale repairs if you need them. We're not independent, but we have some resources."  
"Thank you!" Larson gasped in relief. "I am indebted to you, Captain Karrde."  
Karrde sounded speculative. "Maybe we should discuss some important things with our friends, Antilles, like how Thrawn could dupe us this easily."  
  
El-doana's ship, the Blood Scimitar, easily fit Luke, Bel Iblis, Corran, and the four hundred pounds of equipment and data that they decided to bring along with them. The spacious interior of the large ship had quarters for each of them, suspiciously oriented towards each person's own particular liking. Luke wasn't at all sure about how sneaky these In'ca Din'ca really were if they knew this much about their potential allies. This seemed to be a well laid plan, and a complicated one. He had to wonder what they needed the Republic- or its remnants- for.  
Just as the Blood Scimitar began its long, torturous hyperjump into Wild Space, El-doana called them up to the bridge, a neatly laid out platform with six chairs set in a circle at the edge of various instrument panels.  
"I just intercepted a general distress call from the Sullust system," the grave, squid-like alien informed them, his voice heavy with disappointment and sorrow. "It appears the system has capitulated to Thrawn."  
Luke, Corran, and Bel Iblis were shocked. Everyone had assumed Thrawn would move to strike at the last remnants of the Republic fleet stationed at Bothawui and then move on to the rest of the galaxy. To strike Sullust made no sense. but then, neither did the Grand Admiral himself.  
"How?" Corran managed. "What happened?"  
"Apparently, just mere brute force was sufficient. I have no reports of Imperial casualties."  
Bel Iblis growled to himself in anger before moving forward to address their In'ca Din'ca pilot.  
"Fine, then. We move on to your planet; there's nothing we can do here," he said gutturally, though the pain of those words played out on his face like a slideshow.  
"My thoughts exactly," El-doana said.  
Back in Bel Iblis' quarters, the three resistance commanders discussed their plan once they arrived on Din'cash.  
"We're going to be in an alien culture, with no understanding of technology, traditions, or taboos," Corran pointed out. "We have to be careful where we step, or we'll get our toes- or our heads- cut off for us."  
Bel Iblis nodded. "I still don't trust them completely."  
Luke added his assent. "I don't really like the feel of our pilot; he's tough to read in the Force, but what I get I'm not sure I like."  
Corran scratched his head, leaning forward on the lower bunk of Bel Iblis' strangely normal barracks-style bed. "We need a game plan, some system to follow once we're on the surface, and some idea of what we need, not what the In'ca Din'ca want."  
"Good point," Luke said.  
"What we need is a solid commitment of resources and a better understanding of the way our potential allies are going to work," Bel Iblis said. "We can't take anything at face value; they're playing politics, and playing it well."  
"If we can find a way into their computers or their sensitive areas, we can get a better idea of what it is we can look for," Corran suggested.  
Luke looked at the wall panel computer screen, a little light blinking on in his head. "Well, we've got one right here." he pointed out.  
Bel Iblis grinned, a predatory expression that would have shaken hard- core Imperial loyalists to their boots. "Let's get cracking," he said.  
  
Less than an hour after Corran had begun to disseminate the inner workings of the complicated alien computer, the door hissed open swiftly, and Hyasa El-doana strode through, pointing a snub blaster pistol at the trio of resistance operatives.  
All of them froze in place, no one daring to breathe lest the tension shatter their lungs irreparably. Then, El-doana holstered the pistol and sighed regretfully.  
"Please don't try to access my files," he said almost patronizingly, and Luke saw Corran and Bel Iblis' backs go up at that tone of voice. "It will only get you into trouble, and I don't want to have to restrain you."  
"We have a Jedi," Bel Iblis said warningly.  
"They fall to a stun bolt as easily as any other human," the In'ca Din'ca retorted. "Please, this is your only warning." With that, he left the room, and a second later, the computer in the room died in a fizzle of sparks from exposed circuits.  
Corran looked at the others. "Now what?" he asked.  
Bel Iblis leant back against the bunk. "We wait," he said. "And hope that he isn't lying to us."  
It was a sobering thought. 


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7  
  
When the Blood Scimitar burst out of hyperspace, Luke, Bel Iblis, and Corran saw before them a world that was disappointingly similar to many they had known back in explored space: massive bodies of water speckled with island chains and painted with great brushstrokes of fluffy cloud cover, with every indication of life possible. For some reason, all three of them had been expecting a strange and new world, full of unexplained mysteries. Din'cash gave them only the appearance of conformity, and it was disappointing.  
"Welcome," said El-doana in a booming voice, "to Din'cash, home of the In'ca Din'ca Combine and Jewel of the Galaxy!" Corran smirked slightly at that, and Luke also hid a smile. Powerful species often tended towards the egocentric side, especially when naming things or people.  
The planet did sparkle however, and not just from the glimmer of the distant sun's light on the oceans; battle stations, bulbous and asymmetrical, hung in complicated orbits, and at least ten battlecruisers with flowing lines like the Mon Calamari star cruisers ringed the equator of the world.  
"Prepare for the patrol-" El-doana started to say, and then, with a huge flame, a group of small, compact fighter craft shot by overhead, engines blazing bright enough to trigger the opacity screens of the front viewport. "There they are," he finished. "We must give the recognition signal." He bent over his instruments, humming wordlessly.  
"Well, the hardware looks impressive enough," Corran said, glancing at another of the cockpit's display panels, "But where do they get it?"  
"What?" Bel Iblis asked, tearing his gaze away from the now hovering fighter ships to stare in puzzlement at the former CorSec officer. "What do you mean?"  
Corran pointed to the screen. "I detect no cities or other signs of habitation on the surface," he explained, brow furrowing.  
"Simply explained," El-doana said, returning to his seat. "We're an aquatic species."  
"You mean-" Corran foundered, "Your entire civilization?"  
"Absolutely," El-doana said with a hint of injured pride. "If the Calamarians can do it, can't we?"  
"But they're only amphibious, the Quarren on their own would never have reached space," Corran put in.  
"Regardless, we come from the waves, and to the waves we all return for our last sail," the In'ca Din'ca said, with a tone of religious fervor. "That is our philosophy."  
"Uh-huh," Corran said in a tone of incredulity. "Where do we land?"  
El-doana punched up a view of an underwater map of the planet and pointed to the tip of the easternmost continent. "Our capital is located here. It is our largest city and spaceport. We dock within the hour."  
  
Docking a spaceship underwater was a strange experience for the three humans; instead of just applying repulsorlifts to soften landings, banks of maneuvering jets were used to keep the ship stable in underwater currents and lower it to the smooth surface of the exterior landing pad of the city.  
The city itself was not beautiful, but not unattractive either. Tall, rounded towers thrust out from rolling, interconnected domes of a smooth green metal that Luke couldn't easily identify. Hundreds of thousands of gleaming windows sparkled on the lumpy walls of the towers, and streams of froth sprayed out from arriving and departing ships, lending an eerie, dreamlike quality to the scene.  
As the three humans were unable to survive underwater, El-doana fetched three shimmering suits, elastic and painted a nondescript blue. Each one came with a bubble-shaped, completely transparasteel helmet and an oxygen converting device attached to the neck of the suit. The sizes were slightly out of whack, but the smooth, clinging fit of the garment compensated for the errors in shape. Then, the four emerged into an eerie underwater world.  
It was strangely slow moving towards the door of the docking pad; Luke felt as if he'd been encased in a thin jelly of some kind, and time itself almost seemed to slow. Colorful sea creatures drifted past on eddying cross currents, and bubbles fizzed past the bubble helmets of Luke and his companions.  
Once inside the door, they removed their helmets to taste the salty, alien air, encapsulated within metal fortresses as strong as the coral it was built on. The predominant color in the building seemed to be a smooth green, and there was a great tendency towards round objects. A reception committee stood waiting for them, an impressive collection of massive In'ca Din'ca of indistinguishable gender.  
The central figure, the largest of them all, stepped forward, extending a large paw in the human manner of greeting. His uniform was a long mess of intricately woven tassels that Luke suspected was more ceremonial than for actual covering. In'ca Din'ca didn't seem to wear much clothing.  
Bel Iblis reached out to take the brute's hand, shaking it firmly and putting on his best dignitary smile. He opened his mouth to speak, but the alien beat him to it.  
"I am First Deep-Guide A'mta Gy'dorana," he intoned in thunderous Basic, now taking his fists and grasping the sides of Bel Iblis' head, and the general caught on immediately, repeating the gesture. "Welcome to Um'tallara'non, capital of Din'cash, the Jewel of the Galaxy!"  
Bel Iblis inclined his head graciously, though a wry smile at the 'Jewel of the Galaxy' comment lingered around his mouth. "Thank you," he said. "I am General Bel Iblis, a resistance leader, and these are Corran Horn, Captain in our starfighter forces, and Luke Skywalker, the only living Jedi Knight."  
Gy'dorana bowed his head briefly, tentacles writhing in an unidentified gesture that seemed to amuse his companions. "It is an honor to meet such respectable representatives of your great race, and a further honor to be allied with them."  
"But we're not 'allies' yet, at least technically speaking," Corran said slyly, the mischievous twinkle of a knowing security enforcer entering his eyes. "I believe we came here to discuss that possibility. Possibility only," he reminded the In'ca Din'ca as Gy'dorana opened his mouth to protest, raising a finger.  
"Yes, that is so," the politician, or whatever it was that First Deep- Guide meant, answered with reluctance, obviously frustrated with the stubbornness of the humans. "We have procured quarters and a database of all relevant information to our species for your perusal."  
Luke hid an amused smile. If they expected them to believe that their species had just blithely given up all of their vital information, they were less intelligent than monkey-lizards.  
But that was part of politics, anyway, something Luke didn't particularly like or have much of a feel for. He sobered when he recalled his disastrous attempts on Jomark, though he had been under the influence of Joruus C'baoth at the time. Something about this planet also put him slightly on edge, like an unpleasant odor at the back of your mind. If there was a similar dark plan going on at this place, he would know soon enough.  
  
Author's Note: Sorry, but I'm gonna be out of town for a couple of weeks and unable to update, but here's a summary of characters and locations until I can update again:  
  
Luke, Bel Iblis, Corran, and Hyasa El-doana are all on Din'cash to supposedly negotiate a treaty between the resistance and the In'ca Din'ca.  
Wedge, Karrde, and Kenji Ba'dasahk are all waiting to hear the briefing of the Captain of the defense of Sullust, and Thrawn is launching his final strikes against a failing Republic.  
  
-Sci-Fi Nerd 


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8  
  
By the time Captain Larson had finished his description of the brutal attack on Sullust, he was faded and wan, a mere shadow of a once-proud soldier drained by constant defeats in war.  
Karrde nodded at one of the recent Noghri arrivals to the resistance; the complicity of the entire species in defecting to the New Republic was not known to Thrawn, though everyone was holding their breath for the time when he finally discovered the treachery. The Noghri were aware of the danger, yet they continued steadfastly on their path, determined to compensate for years of service as the Emperor's Death Commandos.  
"Thank you, Captain Larson," he said gently. "Kashikmakh will see you to guest quarters, and I'm sure our recently arrived In'ca Din'ca friends will be eager to resupply your ships." Kenji's blossoming smile vanished for a second, and then returned, in a much thinner line.  
The frigate commander nodded wearily then stood and allowed the short grey alien to pull him from the room.  
"He looks like a boat cut free of its moorings," Wedge observed sadly. He knew what it felt like to lose friends and be unable to avenge them, and he felt only the greatest sympathy for the defeated officer.  
"Mmm," Karrde said, tapping a few keys on his tactical board in the briefing room. "If only we knew something useful from the Sullust battle. Nothing points to any weaknesses that Thrawn might have."  
"Does he have any, is my question," Wedge said tiredly. "I don't want to, but I'm starting to feel a little discouraged."  
"A little?" Karrde asked dryly.  
"Okay, a lot," Wedge corrected. "We haven't won anything since Sluis Van, and a lot of people think that Thrawn is infallible and invincible."  
"That's the problem," Karrde said. "The minute you decide your opponent is unbeatable, you make him unbeatable. All we need to do is find some weakness in his fleet disposition or overall battle plan, and we'll have him. All it will take is one victory for us."  
Wedge nodded. "If we can win a major battle, people will start to believe that we still have a chance. We might be able to use the guerilla tactics that won against the old Empire then, if we get enough new recruits. Hit-and-run warfare is extremely hard to predict."  
"If only," Karrde said. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. First we need to find an upcoming battle that we can win, conceivably. Bothawui is growing increasingly unlikely, now that Sullust is taken. We have no fallback point that's safe out of that system."  
"And Thrawn can bring hundreds of ships to bear on Bothawui if he needs to," Wedge said.  
"Not necessarily," Karrde raised a finger. "He has to defend the Core worlds he's taken recently. Corellia, Chandrila, and Duro all are practically undefended except for Imperial battleships, and the rest aren't much better."  
"So we hope he overreaches and leaves something open?" Wedge scoffed. "Not Thrawn. He knows war too well."  
"Spies or insurgents?" Karrde suggested. "We know the Noghri are still stationed on many Imperial worlds and ships. If we could get a signal out to them."  
"A revolt?" Wedge gasped. "You'd kill them all!"  
"I'm sure they'd be willing to do as much damage as possible and at least try to get out of their positions," Karrde soothed him.  
"I'm not convinced," Wedge said. "That's as bad as what the Empire was doing: simply throwing away lives because they had extraordinary combat skill."  
"Antilles, do you want to win this war or not?" Karrde growled.  
"I just don't want people looking at us like the Empire," Wedge said.  
"Some people will do that no matter what," Karrde said.  
"I know," Wedge said, sighing. He looked away for a second to collect his thoughts.  
Tactically, he knew that the revolt idea held great promise. With the Noghris' impressive combat skills, a simultaneous uprising could do huge damage to the Imperial war effort. But the only way out of a situation like that was in pieces. Wedge may have been a soldier, but he never tried to throw people's lives away if there was a better way.  
But was there a better way?  
"All right," he said. "How do we get the signal out?"  
  
The interior of the In'ca Din'ca capital reminded Luke a great deal of the floating cities of Mon Calamari, now a slave port for the Empire, its cities occupied and used as weapons storage dumps for Imperial warships. The loss of the shipyards had dealt a huge blow to the war effort, but Luke knew that the resistance had saved a few small orbital construction ports and were secretly rebuilding them at Kessel.  
Many times, the small group of In'ca Din'ca dignitaries had to direct the three humans through the right corridor junction ducts; In'ca Din'ca seemed to rely on directional signals invisible to humans.  
However, at one of the junction nexuses, one guard moved off to the right and beckoned for Luke to follow him. Puzzled, the whole group came to a halt.  
"What is this all about?" Bel Iblis asked, and Luke sensed Corran's abrupt tension increase and the focusing of his undeveloped Force powers, probably an unconscious reflex.  
"Oh, my apologies," said Gy'dorana, striding over. "This is a necessary parting. I guarantee your safety, and also that Jedi Skywalker will find where our guard will take him much more interesting than a political body of grouchy old councilors." His attempt at humor fell on deaf ears, and his nervous, bubbly chuckle faded off quickly.  
Luke attempted to probe the mind of the In'ca Din'ca dignitary, but he detected nothing in the way of deception. Unless the whole species was resistant to telepathy like the Hutts or Toydarians, the alien wasn't lying. Unless.  
"I'm sure it'll be alright," Luke assured his two companions. "Probably some Jedi artifacts or lore, or something like that."  
Bel Iblis hesitated, then nodded once, stiffly. Corran still looked apprehensive. "Are you sure?"  
"Perfectly," Luke said.  
  
The hall the lone guard was leading Luke down got dimmer and more intimidating the further they got. Blast doors and other security devices began to become commonplace, and Luke began to feel an odd sort of. fuzziness in the Force, sort of like a furry ball that kept slipping out of your hands when you tried to pick it up. He sharpened his focus, but still felt nothing tangible.  
He realized the guard had stopped before a turbolift door, at least that's what Luke assumed it was. He was busy typing a long password into the door's keypanel, and as Luke frowned in puzzlement at the odd feelings he was getting, the device beeped twice, and the door slid open to reveal a turbolift car.  
The guard beckoned him in. "Only you may go further," he grumbled. "The car is preset; it will take you to the proper level."  
Luke frowned again, and then looked at the car, back at the guard, and at the turbolift again. "Are you." he started to say, but faded off in determination. A Jedi could surely feel safe in an ally's own city, even with all they mysteries popping up everywhere. Nodding his thanks at the guard, he stepped inside the turbolift. The door closed, and whisked him up so swiftly, he couldn't tell how far he'd gone. It could have been one or one hundred levels, depending on the operating mechanism.  
The door slid open, to reveal a long hallway painted green, and hung with paintings and abstract art. Several of the pieces seemed to depict Jedi in various poses or battles, and Luke's pulse quickened. Was this another treasure trove of Jedi lore like the crashed ship Ch'unthor that he'd found on Dathomir?  
Suddenly, his gaze snapped to an intricately decorated door at the end of the hallway. He felt the. fuzziness in the Force again, and this time, the focus seemed to be emanating from just beyond the door. As if in a daze, he found himself moving forward to the door. He only hesitated a second before pushing the keypad at the side of the steel plate.  
The door hissed open, Luke stepped inside. and stared in astonishment. 


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9  
  
"Greetings, General Garm Bel Iblis, Captain Corran Horn," said a large In'ca Din'ca seated in the center of a massive semicircle of at least two hundred council members. "We welcome you to Din'cash, and we extend our greatest sympathies to you for your extreme losses in this war you fight."  
The hall in which the In'ca Din'cas' council met was a simply decorated transparisteel dome with nothing but a layer of the clear metal in between them and the dark blue water all around the chamber. Strange shaped fish and other unidentifiable organisms drifted by on underwater currents, and great fizzing bubbles painted blurry patches on the exterior of the dome. Beneath the ceiling, the chairs of the council were arranged so as to seem that they were surrounding and encroaching on the narrow guest speaker platform at the front of the room.  
"My deepest thanks go to you," Bel Iblis began, somewhat formally and with the barest hint of sarcasm in his voice. Corran knew he had no affection for addlebrained political maneuvering, and he forced himself to smother a smile. "I am General Garm Bel Iblis."  
"Yes, yes, we know this," said the large alien. "I am Deep-Master Or'dathonii, and I am the ruler of this planet. You may address your concerns and arguments for an alliance to me and our council."  
"Again, my thanks," Bel Iblis said even more sarcastically. Corran found himself thinking that if Deep-Master Or'dathonii didn't watch himself, his somewhat over-inflated ego was going to get punctured very quickly. Bel Iblis wasn't known for a subtle tongue.  
"My friends," Bel Iblis began. "You all, presumably, know of our struggle against Grand Admiral Thrawn. This alien commander has subjugated nearly all of the worlds which once were controlled by the peaceful New Republic regime. If he succeeds in his final campaign, the freedom of the galaxy itself could well be lost forever.  
"You were the first ones to suggest an alliance against Grand Admiral Thrawn; I must begin to ask, though I do not reject your aid: Why? Why do you choose to ally yourselves with a ragtag band of rebels who don't have enough military might to assault one planet, let alone an Empire? What do we have that you need?  
"I must say again that I am not about to spurn your outstretched hand of friendship. No, I cherish the potential and real aid you have already provided. Your generosity in providing a small fleet to bolster our rebellion is a blessed relief for us.  
"Sadly, I can say that, as of now, we have nothing to offer you aside from an obscure chance of a free galaxy that might never come to light. Even if Thrawn knows you not, he will learn quickly about your race. You cannot expect to fight with small losses. Casualties will be staggering if you choose to fight.  
"Why do you offer allegiance?"  
Corran almost applauded as the general finished his speech. Though it certainly wasn't a hope-inspiring one, the strategy had been beautiful. There was no way the In'ca Din'ca could worm their way into a false response without looking obvious at this point. The only question is whether they were bold or confident enough to tell the truth.  
Corran held his breath as the chamber echoed with silence.  
"Ha!" Or'dathonii boomed jovially into the stillness, causing everyone except Bel Iblis to jump in fright. He laughed again, a rolling, bubbling chuckle that throbbed through the chamber with its bass undertones. "Very well done, very well done indeed, General!" He paused for thought. "Your questions are excellent, the answers, I fear, are not easy.  
"We have, as you must have deduced, been observing the events of the galaxy at large for some time now. At first we were much taken with this Thrawn- he is a warrior to make proud even the lowliest of In'ca Din'ca drones.  
"We also observed the struggle as he gained dominion over the Empire. For a while, it seemed as though he might be the hope of the galaxy.  
"But we also saw what happened to worlds under his rule. Ukio, once a peaceful, thriving agricultural community is now a mere food depot for his massive war machine. Mrlsst, a center of the arts and culture has become a factory, raped of resources. Mon Calamari, the most similar planet to Din'cash in the entire galaxy. a slave port. Duro. Corellia. Chandrila. Tatooine. So many worlds have suffered.  
"And so we turned to the failing Republic. Our aid would come too late to save it, we saw that clearly. But if the time was judged properly, we could force Thrawn from the galaxy."  
Here Corran interrupted. "But how?" he burst out. "You are but one planet in a galaxy of millions. How can one planet turn the tide of an all- but-lost war?"  
"One planet?" Or'dathonii said. "Whatever made you think that?" He stood proudly, ceremonial robes flapping around him in a sudden gust of air pressure from vents on the ceiling. "We are more than just one, Captain Horn.  
"The In'ca Din'ca Combine totals 963 planets, 560 of which are fully colonized and self-supporting. 200 of the others are uninhabited resource caches and refueling depots. The others are resource colonies that rely on outside aid.  
"The Fleet stands at a capacity of 826 Talanna class battleships comparable in size to Imperial Star Destroyers, with more than 2000 smaller cruisers.  
"Our army numbers nearly 4 million soldiers."  
Corran nearly swallowed his Adam's apple in shock. Though the size of the In'ca Din'ca Combine was not nearly comparable to a full-strength Empire, the fleet and its army was. The sheer size staggered him; the amount of battleships rivaled that of the Imperial Fleet after Thrawn's victory at the Katana Fleet debacle. The sectors between here and the furthest of the In'ca Din'ca's worlds must be packed to the eyes with warships.  
Bel Iblis also had to collect himself before moving to speak again.  
"That's. that's incredible," he breathed. "How have you managed to keep a navy of that size a secret?"  
"Surely you don't think we got to be this successful through negotiation, do you, General?" Or'dathonii said slyly.  
Corran swallowed again.  
  
"Welcome, Knight Skywalker," said an In'ca Din'ca sitting in one of seven pools of light that rimmed the edge of the nearly blacked-out room Luke had entered.  
Due to the immense and suffocating dimness of the chamber, few details were discernible, but several caught his eye. There appeared to be no significant decorations of any sort, and also no identifiable exits from the chamber. All seven of the lighted areas were filled by a plain, comfortable armchair of strange design, and each chair held an In'ca Din'ca, male or female; Luke didn't know the species well enough to tell which gender they were. All of them sported simple robes and clothing of humble manufacture.  
All of them wore, visible on plain belts more suited to farmers than warriors, a lightsaber.  
"You are.?" Luke faltered, knees nearly giving out from the shock of it. Some of Yoda's final words echoed through Luke's mind: "Luke, when gone am I, the last of the Jedi will you be." It couldn't be. It wasn't possible that.  
"Welcome," the In'ca Din'ca said again warmly, rising from the chair and gesturing lightly at some hidden receiver which caused the illumination of the room to increase to a warm, comforting yellow glow. "I am K'talla M'niisonn.  
"Jedi Master."  
Luke nearly fell over. He didn't know whether to laugh, shout for joy, or cry out of sheer weariness. For all this time he'd been alone, the only Jedi, fighting to try and preserve whatever he could discover so that one day the Jedi could rise again. why had he not sensed them? Why would they hide?  
"Knight Skywalker?" Master M'niisonn reached forward to put a large, reassuring hand on his shoulder. Luke began to sense, and decided, that this Jedi was a female. "Please, sit." She beckoned him forward and motioned to the floor. Luke sank gratefully to the cold stones. "You have many questions." It was not a question itself.  
Luke took a deep breath. "Why have you hid from the galaxy?" he began, starting calmly and rationally, striving for a true Jedi's control but rapidly losing the battle. "The job of a Jedi is to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Where were you when Thrawn attacked the Republic? Where were you when C'baoth menaced the galaxy? Where-?" he broke off, fighting tears.  
For a second, Master M'niisonn's eyes blazed with anger at his impudence, but then they softened to a mother's gentle stare.  
"I am deeply sorry for your losses, Jedi Skywalker," she said. "How can you assume we hid? Do you know what we have done out here?"  
"But I would have." he began.  
"There are many things in the galaxy, Jedi Skywalker, which no one has dreamt existed, things that shrivel you heart to imagine. The Unknown Regions holds similar perils, but we do not venture there. Some grim force holds sway there that we do not tempt."  
"The Unknown Regions?" Luke said, confused. "How do you-?"  
"Are you familiar with wormhole theory?" she cut him off.  
"What?" Luke scoffed. "That old joke? No one has ever." he trailed off as he realized where this was going.  
"Yes, Jedi Skywalker," she said. "We have found one. The Unknown Regions is as bad as the Wild Space was a hundred years ago; filled with innumerable threats and menaces. But a power is growing there that is calm and ruthless in its battles. We disturb them not."  
"What else have you to hide from?"  
"Nothing, anymore," Master M'niisonn said softly. "There were many things, once.  
"The Lysard were the first real threat. They are- or were- a reptilian species, slow to respond to changes in their environment but cruel and implacable in their advances. They were also highly resistant to many aspects of the force. That was the first true crisis facing the In'ca Din'ca race. For a time, we were pushed back on the brink of destruction.  
"We learned more quickly than they did, though. We built new weapons and counterattacked. Over two hundred of our Jedi lost their lives in that war. We have never been the same strength since."  
"What happened?" Luke asked.  
"Before our people could check their rampage, we destroyed the Lysard, incinerated their homeworld, and eradicated all trace of their species from the cosmos. This is our species' greatest sorrow; that we caused the extinction of an intelligent race.  
"Other threats rose and followed: a renegade Sith cult, which was quickly overwhelmed. The tiny race that we call the Plagued Ones: they fought solely with biological and chemical weapons. That was the second great crisis facing the In'ca Din'ca. But they were pushed out of the galaxy soon enough, and our navy grew stronger.  
"We pushed ourselves on a great mission of exploration and conquest. We subjugated and otherwise enslaved more than twenty other species. Three have since died out from rebellion and disease; sixteen now live safely and happily under our banner; the rest have seceded and disarmed themselves.  
"Then came the Purge, and the Empire."  
"Yes," Luke said. "Tell me of the Purge."  
"We learned of Emperor Palpatine's push to eradicate the Jedi from several who fled here. We hid ourselves about that time, and our numbers dwindled. The next news we had was from probing scout teams, who had decided it was time to explore more of the galaxy. We then knew of the New Republic's rise and the coming campaign of Grand Admiral Thrawn.  
"And so we waited. And now, the turning point has come.  
"Our fortunes now rest with your resistance. We rise or fall together." 


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10  
  
The large shadow looming over Wedge Antilles startled him enough that he had his heavy blaster pistol trained on the intruder before realizing it was only Kenji Ba'dasahk, a curious tilt to his large head. He sighed and returned the weapon to his holster.  
"You seem tense, Commander," Kenji stated irrelevantly, cocking his head the other direction. "Is there something the matter?"  
Not at all, Wedge thought sarcastically, only that we have no real conceivable plan to win a galaxy-spanning war and we're not even sure how far we can trust our closest allies. Other than that, everything's fine. Out loud, he said, "Well, not really anything more than can be expected."  
"Ah yes," Kenji said. "Captain Karrde told me of your plan to coordinate an uprising against these Imperials. Have you any ideas as to how you are to accomplish this?"  
"Not at the moment," Wedge said, turning back to the data terminal he'd been occupied with before Kenji had walked in. "I don't know how we're to get the signal out across the galaxy at one time. That requires a hypercomm, which is far too risky to try and crack security codes for; the Empire doesn't have enough of them left usable to make light use of them."  
"I see," said Kenji. "Any word of your companions from Din'cash?"  
Wedge blinked at the abrupt shift of focus. "Not yet," he said slowly. "I hope nothing's happened; politics is a risky business."  
The subtle shift of the alien's stance suggested that he'd taken note of the veiled insult to his people, but fortunately, he seemed disinclined to argue over Wedge's short temper.  
"My people are not easy bargainers," he said. "Your friends will not get an alliance out of them with platitudes about peace and prosperity for the Republic. Our people have fought to get to where we are, and we're not about to give it all up in a war that seems could be quite extended and disastrous."  
"Hey!" Wedge shot back, unable to stop the proud outburst. "We've been fighting since day one! We've put more blood and sweat into this stupid war than anyone else! Maybe it's time someone else took the casualties and the heat!"  
The two glared at each other for several seconds, and Kenji's massive fist strayed so close to his weapon that Wedge was afraid the big In'ca Din'ca might shoot him in fury. However, the alien turned away first.  
"I am sorry," he said softly. "I did not mean to impinge your forces or their honor. We are. unused to dealing with equals on this sort of terms."  
"How so?" Wedge asked, glad to turn the conversation to a lighter topic.  
"All of the species who live under our banner were at one time conquered species, practically slaves under our fist," Kenji said. "We have since liberated and equipped them to fend for themselves; however, most still live within the confines of our space."  
"I see," said Wedge, a sour feeling spreading through the pit of his stomach. So, they had enslaved races in the past, had they? Would they defeat Admiral Thrawn, only to give birth to another monster?  
The door's chime rang sweetly through the databank chamber, and Wedge called out, "Come!" somewhat distractedly. His tired brain was still sawing at the problem of the Noghri in the back of his consciousness.  
The situation was not so much as to if they could get a rebellion to occur, but how. As Wedge had explained to Kenji, hypercomms were extremely rare and hard to steal or hijack, and no other method would coordinate the uprising as well. Couriers with preset data would be all very well, but for that, they would need to get into protected Imperial areas, and if Thrawn got a whiff of anything, the whole setup would come crashing down around their heads.  
"Ah, Kenji," Karrde said, surprised, as he stepped into the room. "What are you doing here?"  
"I was merely seeing if I could assist him with his problem," the In'ca Din'ca replied smoothly.  
"Ah," Karrde said again, taken somewhat aback. "Have you-?" he glanced at Wedge as he struggled to form words.  
"Arrived at a solution? Not yet," Kenji said sadly. "I fear this is a very difficult road you have chosen."  
"Well, it's certainly the only one I can see that will accomplish our goals as nicely," Karrde said, still wearing a puzzled expression. Wedge frowned at his unusual behavior. "What have you discussed?"  
"Nothing much, as yet," Wedge said, shaking it off and turning back to his board. "I thought that maybe one of the midlevel Imperial outposts along the border, with enough importance to warrant a hypercomm station, but enough obscurity to be unguarded, might be a possibility."  
Karrde shook his head. "It would be too remote," he decided. "By the time the signal reached all the undercover operatives, the warning would have gone out to the major operating centers. We might gain ships and systems that way, but the remaining ships of the fleet would still be enough to overcome the combined forces."  
"Then do we just let the uprising die before it starts?" Wedge asked incredulously. "I'm trying as hard as I can, but Admiral Thrawn's got us locked well and good."  
"Not necessarily," Kenji interrupted suddenly. "You have Bothawui."  
"Bothawui?" Wedge scoffed, with even greater sarcasm. "Bothawui is jammed from nearly all transmissions; no hypercomm signal without an asteroid-sized relay would get out of that system."  
"You mistake my meaning," Kenji said, superiority oozing into his tone. "Bothawui is the focus of attention. If Thrawn concentrates on that area too much, you would have a window of time in which to act."  
"Act how?" Wedge said.  
"The Chimera," Kenji said.  
Wedge gaped. "Now I'm really lost," he said.  
"Thrawn is bound to have a hypercomm on board his flagship so as to communicate with his burgeoning Empire, no?" Kenji said. "What if you stage an assault on Coruscant and invade his flagship at the same time? You strike a blow at the heart of the Empire and maybe succeed in an uprising that will turn the tide."  
Karrde whistled softly. "It's a bold plan, I give it that," he said. "But how?"  
"You have a fleet at Bothawui, correct?" Kenji led.  
"No, not exactly," Wedge said. "The New Republic has that fleet. We're simply the outlaw resistance."  
Kenji looked puzzled. "They would not offer assistance if the opportunity came?"  
"I'm sure they would," Karrde said quickly. "However, doing that means communicating with them somehow, while they're in a blockaded system."  
"You fear to run the Imperial blockade, then?" Kenji asked.  
"Yes," Wedge said. "Like I said, if Thrawn realizes anything suspicious is happening he'll start digging. And when that man digs, others hide in bottomless pits."  
"War is risk, gentlemen," Kenji said. "You yourselves have spoken passionately about the need to thrust Thrawn from power, and wish to use these Noghri to do it. Well, I have shown you a way to do this. It is you who must decide whether the risk is acceptable."  
He stood to leave, and then looked down at the two humans again. "I will assure you that should you choose this course, I will use all of my power and skill to enable the In'ca Din'ca to lend you assistance."  
And with that, he strode haughtily from the room.  
Wedge stared, openmouthed, at the door for several seconds. He couldn't quite seem to connect his jaw muscles together again. That was the most impassioned thing he'd ever heard the bulky alien say; which, in turn, suggested he really was serious about bringing this Thrawn regime to an end.  
"Well," Karrde remarked after a long silence. "That was most informative."  
"He's right, you know," Wedge said after another pause. "Though I don't really like to admit it."  
"Yes," Karrde said thoughtfully. "How do you think we should schedule this operation?"  
"That's a little premature," Wedge said. "First, we have to do two things: obtain the New Republic's cooperation and secrecy, and make sure that Luke, Bel Iblis, and Corran are alert and able to keep the In'ca Din'ca on the level. I don't want to have my back unguarded marching into Coruscant."  
"Indeed," Karrde said. "Why did you tell him about the Noghri?"  
Wedge did a double-take. "What?"  
"There was no real need yet to inform him of the plan's for the Noghri," Karrde rebuked him. "We need every Ace we can get up our sleeves."  
"But I didn't-" Wedge began, and then broke off suddenly, staring hard at the door.  
"Tell him?" Karrde finished for him, somewhat startled by the sudden turn of events. "You mean that. well, that's not good."  
"He's got a link into our computers or communications, or maybe both," Wedge said in a deep snarl that evoked images of primeval predators on the hunt. "The bastard."  
Karrde directed a hard stare against the door that Kenji had left through. "I think it best that we keep a very close eye on our friends the In'ca Din'ca from now on..." he said.  
"Absolutely," Wedge agreed. "However, his plan is still sound, but I want to work out every detail before I have to implement it. I walked into Coruscant and shut it down before, and I have no desire to encounter the mess I did that time ever again."  
  
"Admiral?" the navigator sitting in the starboard crew pit alerted Grand Admiral Thrawn, sitting calmly in the center of his captain's chair, reading the latest Intelligence briefings on the rebels. They were, admittedly, far too sparse for the Grand Admiral's liking, and Pellaeon found it almost equally frustrating. Military victories were built on knowledge, and there was precious little of that lately.  
Casually, Thrawn handed off the datapad to Pellaeon, and turned towards the crew pit with his calm red eyes glimmering in his lean face. "Yes, Lieutenant?" he said in that honeyed voice.  
"We're coming up on the reversion point in ten minutes, sir," the young man said smartly, a quivering salute marking his dedication to doing his utmost aboard the Chimera. Not many were accepted into its elite ranks, and the fighting was hard even amongst the crew.  
"Very good, Lieutenant. Carry on, and alert all TIE pilots to stand ready," Thrawn said, and turned back to Pellaeon, almost as if sensing his Captain's hesitation. "You have a comment, Captain?"  
"Just the regular one, sir," Pellaeon admitted, feeling somewhat like a child called out for not completing his chores.  
"Ah yes," Thrawn said. "You still doubt the timing of this attack?"  
"To be blunt, sir." Pellaeon said, "Yes, I do. Give it another three months and we'll have six new Star Destroyers from the Muuniliist system. That frees up enough forces to oppose any significant rebel gathering without weakening the defenses of any other systems."  
"A sound decision, from a purely tactical point of view," Thrawn said. "But this is the more logical course of action, especially taking recent events into account."  
"You mean the mysterious aliens, sir?"  
Thrawn's eyes glittered hotly. "Precisely, Captain. Intelligence is still attempting to fully decipher the captured ship's computers, and we must move before they have time to bring full weight to bear in the fight. To be sure, if the rebels recognize our movements, we could lose more ships than are being risked here; however, when Bothawui falls, the rebels are a pittance that can be rooted out at will."  
"Your pardon, Admiral, but a fully equipped armada of several strange battleships is hardly a pittance," Pellaeon said, rather stiffly.  
"In war, there is always risk," Thrawn said. "Of course, any losses we take during this campaign will be counterweighted by our strategies. Remember, Ackbar is in command, and I know Ackbar. We will have no difficulties in defeating him."  
"My objection stands, sir," Pellaeon repeated.  
"At any other time, Captain, I would concur," Thrawn said. "But the final days of the war are heating up in interesting patterns, patterns I cannot decipher as yet. We must forge ahead.  
"To your station, Captain. Bothawui's fall is mere hours away." 


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11  
  
The suite of rooms the In'ca Din'ca had supplied Luke, Corran, and Bel Iblis with were relatively comfortable, even given their differing physiologies. The lights were slightly dimmer than was normally comfortable, and everything was about a half size larger than was needed, but they were acceptable to human standards. A somewhat larger and more streamlined refresher occupied the corner of each of the three bedrooms, and the mattresses themselves were massive constructs of an odd plastic substance very resilient to the touch. The main chamber held a data terminal conformed to human hands and a small table on which to eat or do other work.  
As Luke strode about the room, accustoming himself to all the round edges and alien curves common to In'ca Din'ca architecture, he thought he detected a faint resonance, an odd buzz in the Force that reminded him of the Jedi Master M'niisonn in the upper chamber. That idea both brought a grin to his face and a shadow on his heart. Though it was wondrous to come across other Jedi again, his heart seemed to be warning him to constantly question this new reality, as if there were hidden dangers everywhere.  
The door hissed suddenly open, breaking Luke's reverie and prompting a quick about-face to confront Corran and Garm Bel Iblis marching tiredly through the door, visible circles painting sacs of exhaustion under their eyes. Every motion of their limbs brought a little shudder to their forms.  
Luke winced as Corran sagged into a cushy seat, sinking nearly half a foot in. "The In'ca Din'ca Council wring you out?" he asked sympathetically.  
Bel Iblis coughed wearily, and then shook his head in exasperation. "More like crushed us," he sighed. "They are surprisingly willing to make this alliance work, but convincing them it'll be profitable is extremely difficult."  
Corran growled deep in his throat. "They don't have the world's clearest idea about how unbalanced our government and holdings are. I think they know that we're desperate, but think that we can take a few worlds back to give to them in exchange, when in reality, we're already stretched to breaking."  
Luke hummed absently to himself as he thought about that. It didn't make sense that the Jedi upstairs would know that much about the resistance and Republic while the leaders went ignorant. Someone was deceiving someone here.  
"What about you, Luke?" Bel Iblis asked. "Where'd they take you for all that time?"  
So Luke related his encounter with the In'ca Din'ca Jedi, sparking raised eyebrows and soft whistles among his two companions. Certainly no one had ever truly suspected the Jedi would emerge again, but having a whole cabal of them just appearing out of thin air was near to a miracle.  
"They seemed friendly, then, Luke?" Bel Iblis asked after he'd finished his tale about the Jedi's battles with various enemies throughout their portion of the galaxy.  
Luke hesitated. "Friendly enough," he finally said. "But their presence in the Force is odd, almost as if they're still masking themselves. I can't get a much better indication that there are Jedi here than I could of animals scurrying around beneath my field of vision." He paused for thought. "Either they're so used to hiding that they're not about to give it up, or they still have some need of secrecy."  
"Well, the leaders aren't much different, except a whole lot more inclined to argue," Corran put in. "They will share military data and some technology with us, but they still feel very... furtive, to me." Corran's latent Force sensibilities, though still untrained and unfocused, gave him insights as useful as Luke's did sometimes; made even more effective since it was not common knowledge he possessed the abilities.  
"Politics is made up of lie, deception, and counter-deception," Bel Iblis sighed. "We can't expect that to change now just because we need allies. How do we convince them to decisively throw in with the rebellion?"  
Silence descended like a heavy blanket for several seconds while everyone thought hard on the thorny problem. Some way to convince the aliens that it was in their best interests...  
"How about we offer them a place in the New Republic government once we've reestablished it?" Corran finally said. "Give them an Advisory Council seat, Defense Force contracts- we need ships now that Mon Calamari's gone- that sort of thing. Everyone wants a slice of the pie no matter what, and we can deliver a fairly big one."  
"I doubt the In'ca Din'ca want to be controlled by a political entity thousands of light years from them," Bel Iblis said.  
"We'll need a new constitution anyway once we've defeated Thrawn," Corran said. "What if we didn't put people under our total authority? Shift the governments down more to the planets, let them work it out. All we need to be is a peacekeeper and galactic legislation force."  
Bel Iblis' eyes twinkled. "We may have something there," he admitted. "But before we go to the Council with it, we need to draft something, a sample agreement if you will. After all, we have the authority to speak and bind for the resistance."  
"Well, how much military support do you think they'd be willing to give us? I mean, the military has over 800 battleships; surely they could lend at least half their fleet to freeing the galaxy," Corran said.  
"But remember," Luke pointed out, "If we make this agreement, we need to be able to count on those ships again later, if another enemy shows up. They may not want to have half of their defenses continually on call."  
"Hey, we're setting the terms, but we can always change them in negotiations, right?" Corran said. "Besides, getting rid of Thrawn is in their best interests, and they know it."  
"The only question is: do they need us to do it?" Bel Iblis said suddenly, and the room got a lot colder for the humans after that.  
  
Sparks rained down like miniature embers, and intermixed with them came globular hailstones of flash-melted durasteel, shaken loose from bulkheads and sprayed in every direction by torpedo impacts. Consoles were strewn across the floor like broken toys, some of them bearing red smears dictating their brutal paths through friendly bodies. The transparisteel viewport at the front of the bridge was starred by multiple hairline fractures and EV-suited workmen outside were frantically smearing quick- seal materials against the breaches to stop air loss.  
All in all, it was the worst Wedge had ever seen the bridge of Home One, Admiral Ackbar's command ship. The admiral himself was not here at the moment, due to three different compound fractures of various bones, a severe concussion, and a perforated kidney that was probably being removed right now.  
It was likely a miracle that the admiral and his ship had survived at all. According to the battle logs and tactical footage that the teams had been able to salvage from the Home One's shattered computer interfaces, Thrawn had anticipated almost every eventuality from the battle over Bothawui. The only reason Ackbar had escaped at all seemed to be that two of the Interdictor captains had been too slow to obey orders, and the admiral's Star Cruiser and a Bulk Cruiser half-filled with E-wings had raced past the Imperials as they fled the bombardment of the last New Republic stronghold. Even the resistance's aborted Operation Phalanx Guard with its pincer attack would not have been able to turn the tide.  
It had been a sad sight, striding onto the ruined bridge with the last medical team and seeing the Admiral, slumped in his chair with agony, surrounded by the ruin of his ship, and comprehending at last that the New Republic was officially dead.  
Karrde and his tacticians also considered the possibility that Thrawn had let the ships escape to lead him to the resistance's hiding places. However, it was only by chance that one of Wedge's patrols under Wes Janson had encountered the distress buoy and transponder of Home One and called for immediate backup. Both ships had been searched thoroughly, and no trace had been found of homing beacons. Signals had been monitored all the way back to the hidden resistance base, and nothing had been found to indicate a tracking device.  
Wedge stood beside the twisted chair that had once held the proudest and most brilliant tactician of the New Republic, letting one gloved hand stroked slowly along the chair arm. With the destruction of Bothawui, New Republic battle groups all over the galaxy would be fleeing to find hiding places. The resistance's numbers could easily double or more. It wouldn't be enough to win the war, however; Wedge was surprised that there was still no news from Luke and the others.  
"Commander?" one of the techs called from his position near the fragments of a databank console. "We've just finished our scans and projections for repairing the ship, sir."  
Finally, some good news! Wedge picked his way carefully across the bridge to the technician, eagerly awaiting some good tidings at last. Nothing seemed to be going right, lately. "How long to repair?" he asked eagerly.  
The technician hesitated. "I don't think we can, frankly," he said. "It would be best if we just scuttled the ship, sir."  
  
"Sad, for the Admiral to lose his last battle and then his ship as well," Karrde said solemnly to Wedge. They were both seated in Karrde's office, discussing the grim fate of the Star Cruiser, forced to be blasted to pieces by a volley of torpedoes and turbolaser blasts, lest the Imperials find her and extract information from her.  
Wedge nodded numbly. "We're just taking hit after hit after hit," he growled, more to himself than the other man. "Sooner or later, some of them are going to question if it's worth it and turn themselves- or us- in."  
Karrde sighed heavily. "We have no other choice than to keep fighting," he said. "Now, what progress do we have on the Noghri plan?"  
Wedge winced. "Well, Kenji's idea is still the best one, but I'm not quite sure how we're going to get ourselves onto the Chimera for the transmission without being detected and apprehended."  
"We'll have to hope for a miracle, won't we?" Karrde said wryly.  
Suddenly, an alarm split the air, a shriek of clashing tones and wailing sirens. An alert of that magnitude meant only one thing: massive unknown forces dropping out of lightspeed.  
"The Imperials?" Wedge asked incredulously. "There was no homing device! I checked myself!"  
"Hold on, Commander," Karrde said, tapping a few keys on his console. "Just wait until I can get more-" Karrde never got a chance to say what more he would get for Wedge. With a fizzle of static and white noise, and image burst into space over the holopad.  
It was Garm Bel Iblis. "Resistance forces, do not be alarmed," he said in a strong, clear voice. "This is General Garm Bel Iblis, aboard the In'ca Din'ca flagship Martyr's Glory. I come to bring news of an agreed treaty between the In'ca Din'ca Combine and the resistance forces. I have over 350 battleships at my back, and I think it's time we put an end to Thrawn." 


	13. Chapter 12

Thanks Juu Juu Bee for pointing out the Mrlsst issue! I agree with you, and Thrawn won't do that kind of thing again!  
  
-Sci-Fi Nerd  
  
Chapter 12  
  
"Corran!" Wedge smiled as the smaller man strode in through the iris- shaped docking portal linking the In'ca Din'ca flagship and the Wild Karrde. His flight suit was rumpled and arrayed with sweat crescents at armpits and knees, but his eyes were bright and his step strong. "You've missed some interesting developments, my friend."  
Corran shook his head wryly, and a hint of his exhaustion showed through his façade. "I don't know, Wedge," he said slowly, "I've had plenty of excitement and intrigue for the next few years."  
"More truth to that than I suspect I want to know," Wedge said ruefully, throwing a comradely arm around Corran's shoulders. "So, what are our allies like when they're at home?"  
Corran considered for several seconds. "I'm not sure," he said slowly. "They're very hard to read- Luke agrees with me on that point- and I'm not sure whether they're motivated by peace or some other sinister purpose. The main thing is that they're putting action to words."  
"Yeah, Karrde and I were both pretty impressed by the announcement," Wedge said, steering Corran down a side corridor that led to the Wild Karrde's conference room. At this time of day, they were fairly alone in the corridors of the smuggling craft turned warship, and privacy was readily available in the halls. "How'd you manage 350 battleships?"  
Corran barked a short laugh. "If we'd pressed for another few days, we probably could've managed 400," he said.  
"Four-?" Wedge gasped.  
"Their fleet rivals that of Thrawn at his height of battles with the New Republic," Corran said. "Their society is rigidly militaristic and ordered by this point. They've survived this long by being good soldiers and organizers, and nothing's about to make them stop."  
"Good allies," Wedge noted.  
"Or bad enemies," Corran said darkly.  
Wedge gave him a sideways glance. "You have a problem with them or something?" he asked.  
Corran winced slightly, and his manner faltered. "Well, it's not that I specifically have a problem with them per se..." he began. "It's just that, well, ever since we started the flight back, Luke and I have both been having bad feelings about the future."  
"Feelings?" Wedge asked. "Like... feelings, urges, or something more concrete?" Jedi were noted for a chancy ability to see the outcomes of events in motion and maybe even to change them.  
"Me, I just get premonitions of danger," Corran admitted. "Luke gets flashes of dreams, but they're vague. According to him, he sees Coruscant nearly rebuilt, but then it starts to burn. Then he gets a shadow descending over a candle until he only sees the flame."  
Wedge felt a chill run up his spine. "That's way outside anyone's realm of experience we've got here."  
Corran gave him a funny look. "Not exactly," he said.  
"What do you mean?" Wedge looked closer at this new, thoughtful Corran. Circumstances were changing his friend, slowly but surely. At this rate, he'd be a Jedi within a year.  
"Well, turns out the In'ca Din'ca have their own Jedi council of a sort," Corran hesitated before saying it. Although, if he couldn't trust Wedge, who could he trust?  
Wedge sucked in a deep breath. "And they've been getting the same visions?" he asked.  
"Well, Luke's gone to talk to them about it," Corran said even more slowly. "They brought six of their highest level Jedi with the armada, and it certainly wouldn't hurt to have more Jedi on the fleet."  
"That's a big help," Wedge said. "After all, any premonition we can get can surely help us in some way, right?"  
"I hope you're right," Corran said, "but to hear Luke tell it, the last time he tried to change the future he'd seen, he nearly doomed the Rebellion."  
  
"They have seen some of the future," the first one said.  
"It will not influence them sufficiently to disrupt events," the second intoned dismissively.  
A third and last one added its weight to the discussion. "How goes the advance preparations?"  
"Three of ten have been swayed and more are expected within the next week," Number One stated, sounding satisfied. "At home, the already loyal ones are ready."  
"How many yet remain outside control?" Two interrupted.  
"Unfortunately, eight of the principal commanders are yet independent, as is half the council," One replied. "For the rest of the council, progress is slow but steady, but the remaining commanders are likely too resistant."  
"Once events are sufficiently in motion, they will be killed," Three burst out with great enthusiasm.  
"Of course, One said sharply. "But if anything is to go awry, especially with the sensitive ones here, the plan may become endangered."  
"Unfortunately, further modifications are impossible without increasing the likelihood of failure even more," Two said regretfully.  
"Failure will not be tolerated!" Blurted Two, excited once again.  
"Patience," counseled One. "You are not as wise as you wish to appear, nor as powerful as you seem to think. You will defer to my judgment in this matter, or else I will find TWO new accomplices with greater intelligence."  
"Of course," Two said hurriedly. "I would never think of disobedience."  
"Ha!" Burst out One. "You are also not as subtle or as loyal as you seem, yet you have intelligence of a sort."  
"I also am loyal," Three said, somewhat sullenly.  
"I trust in both your skills," One said. "What of the resistance?"  
"They are growing in numbers and organizational skill," Two said. "If we allow much time after the initial steps are completed, they may become a challenging opponent."  
"Their diversity does breed unique skills," Three added.  
"We shall have to see to it that they fall swiftly, then," One said heavily. "It may interfere with the larger-scale pacification, but I cannot afford to have a dagger hidden in the shadows waiting to seek my heart."  
"Should we consider a more radical change, then?" Three proposed slowly. "Would Thrawn be a suitable tool?"  
"Too dangerous, Two said."His genius could undo even us if given the chance."  
"I agree," said One. "We stick with the original plan. Remember this: we are poised on the edge of a knife, and it can cut as easily as balance. However, if we maneuver carefully, we can accomplish what even the Emperor or Joruus C'baoth never could." 


	14. Chapter 13

Italics haven't been downloading, so from now on, thoughts are designated by *. Ship names remain in regular font.  
  
-Sci-Fi Nerd.  
  
Chapter 13  
  
The first real joint council between the upper leaders of the resistance and the In'ca Din'ca commanders, surely the most heartening moment of recent years, was held in a dingy cargo hold in the Wild Karrde's lower decks, due to reduced crew space up above in the actual lounge. Ten In'ca Din'ca First Huntsman and their Coordinator sat on hastily transported chairs of durasteel piping around a massive sheet of transparisteel that served for a rough table. Three holoprojectors had been moved down to the cargo hold for strategic purposes, and they were now situated down the length of the impromptu table. The rest of the attendees were all the high-level commanders active in the resistance: Luke Skywalker, Corran Horn, Wedge Antilles, Garm Bel Iblis, Admiral Ackbar, wrapped in the modified folds of a mobile bacta tank, Captain Larson from Sullust, Keyan Farlander, recently recovered from a tour of duty in the Endor system, and a frail General Madine, badly injured during his escape from Coruscant almost a year earlier.  
As he looked around the assembled dignitaries and warriors, Wedge felt a strange exhilaration sweep through him, and a strange sadness. Exhilaration for what seemed like the downhill plunge of the last leg of the race; sadness for those who hadn't made it: Admiral Drayson, missing in action during the battle of Coruscant, General Rieekan, his military escort shot down over Sluis Van. Even the smugglers who'd died deserved a special place in the annals of history: Karrde's friend Mazzic, unable to escape the devastating crossfire at Bilbringi, and Ellor, caught by Imperial stormtroopers less than a month after that. Everyone had lost someone in this war.  
Wedge's eyes hardened. *Except Thrawn, of course*, he thought. *Time to make him pay.*  
"Friends," Bel Iblis called as the last of the assembled guests and commanders took their rickety seats. "We have arrived at a turning point in this war. Through hard work, we have recently completed negotiations with the In'ca Din'ca race, buried deep in Wild Space." The general nodded to the black-skinned aliens, and the Coordinator nodded in response. "To this end, we are now allied completely with regards to eliminating Thrawn and the Imperial presence from this galaxy." A chorus of whistles and shouts greeted that statement, and Wedge felt his own grin start to creep onto his face. The excitement was infectious.  
"However," Bel Iblis continued. "This does not come without sacrifice. In exchange for their aid, the In'ca Din'ca have been offered and accepted an agreement which states that any Republic arising from this conflict must have their support and input in determining governmental structure and organization."  
No one seemed very upset by that, and Wedge could see why. You weren't going to refuse anything to a powerful ally who could help win a war for you, not even a say in what you did afterwards. After all, if they wanted a truly galactic republic, they'd have to be part of it anyway, wouldn't they?  
Bel Iblis sat and gestured to the Coordinator, who nodded graciously and rose to his imposing two meter height and planted his long arms decisively on the table.  
"My friends," he said somberly in accented, rumbling Basic. "I am Coordinator Rusk'jahvi Sa'samna of the In'ca Din'ca Combine, an Admiral in your eyes. Though I do not wish to dispel your enthusiasm and hospitality, I fear we must get down to business, that being of course the battle we now find ourselves in." Stepping forward, he tapped keys on the central holoprojector's base, bringing to life a vivid diagram of the galaxy two meters across.  
The image swiveled and focused on the Galactic body, chopping off the arms and filling the viewfield with stars. A massive blot of red splashed across the core of the galaxy and most of the rims, while a few isolated dots of green speckled the map.  
"As you can see, from a purely numerical viewpoint, your resistance is horribly overmatched, both in numbers and options," Sa'samna said. "The Empire has all of the key Core worlds and a much larger fleet than you can hope to gather alone."  
The image altered again, the general colorings fading away. Now, each star was ringed with its affiliated color, and symbols of ship placement appeared in their respective colors. A massive band of white speared its way into the Outer Rim, skirting many Imperial systems and focusing on the outer green outposts.  
"As you can see, we have brought a substantial force into your systems, enough perhaps to turn the tide if placed properly," Sa'samna said. "However, unless we can put the Imperials off balance, and quickly, the advantages of their position will allow them to overwhelm us."  
"As it happens," Wedge said, leaning forward, "we do have a plan for this type of situation." He then quickly and thoroughly explained the idea of the Noghri uprising, generating many mutters from the In'ca Din'ca's side of the table. He hoped desperately that his plan hadn't offended the In'ca Din'ca.  
"There is a catch, yes?" Sa'samna said slowly after conferring with his subordinates.  
"Well, of a sort," Wedge hedged. "In order to be sure that the signal reaches all the Noghri, we need a hypercomm, one that can talk to all systems under Imperial control at once. For that, we need to get onboard the Chimera, Grand Admiral Thrawn's flagship, and somehow use the comm there."  
Dead silence.  
Sa'samna shook himself thoroughly. "What you ask includes a whole new level of difficulty in the operation for an attack. You realize this?" Wedge started to nod. "You will have to engage his fleet at their most heavily defended world, somehow sneak on board his flagship, doubtless the most powerful and well-guarded ships in the fleet, and gain access to their most trusted communications array.  
"You are willing to chance the fate of the galaxy on that mission?"  
Wedge brought his head up to stare straight into the In'ca Din'ca's eyes. "I do," he said. "And if necessary, I will lead the mission myself."  
"Now wait just a-"Karrde burst out, but Wedge cut him off.  
"I know what I'm doing, Karrde," Wedge said. "Rogue Squadron has done lots of commando strikes in the past, and I know I can do this with a little help."  
"I'm in," chimed Corran instantly. "Can't let the commanding officer commit virtual suicide without a sidekick to make sure he doesn't take the first blaster bolt."  
"I as well," said Luke. "You will need Jedi."  
"As a representative of the In'ca Din'ca, and an intelligence operative, I volunteer," Kenji said from the wall of the chamber.  
Sa'samna looked as though his massive eyes were going to pop out of his head. "You truly are as insane as your legends make you," he whispered almost to himself. "But you are adamant. I will do what I can."  
"In order to make the most of our element of surprise, we must strike now," Bel Iblis broke in. "We don't have much time before Thrawn learns what we're planning and tracks us down."  
"I can have a suitable escort assembled and a battle plan ready in four days," Sa'samna said. "Will that be sufficient?"  
Bel Iblis nodded stonily.  
*I sure hope it will be*, Wedge thought darkly. *If we slip now, the galaxy is doomed.*  
  
"Okay, so how do we get onboard the Chimera?" Corran asked. The four core members of the insertion team were gathered in the Wild Karrde's lounge, with all of Karrde's extensive databases unlocked and at their fingertips.  
"The method I used to break Karrde out will not work again," Luke said quietly. "And besides, I doubt we could find someone with Mara's skills to break into the computers even if we could get in."  
Corran frowned. "Speaking of which, where has she been? I know she came back from Mount Tantiss with you guys."  
Luke winced. "Karrde... isn't really sure," he admitted. "Our last report was of her trying to establish advance prep for a base on Myrkyr, but that fell through after the team lost contact. That's been about three weeks."  
"More bad news," Wedge hissed through clenched teeth. "Even though we've gained a powerful ally, our luck seems to be getting worse along with everything else."  
"How did you get into this Grand Admiral's ship 'last time', Jedi Skywalker?" Kenji asked. "Surely there can be something we can use."  
"Not really," Luke said. "At the time, I was flying a stolen Imperial cargo ship up from a planet they were orbiting, and I also had a person with me who knew some high level Imperial codes. We're not going to get that lucky this time."  
"What did you do once you were inside?" Kenji pressed on insistently.  
"We used her codes to get me into the detention area through a trash compactor while the shifts changed. In two minutes we had him out of the cell and back in our hall car," Luke continued, sounding puzzled. "Why?"  
"Curious, that's all," Kenji said. "Does any part of the ship open to space innocuously?"  
"How do you mean?" Corran asked.  
"If there is some entrance into the ship that is not normally used as an entrance, we may be able to slip in that way," Kenji explained.  
"The only thing of that caliber on a Star Destroyer is the trash bay doors, but they're not going to dump there wastes in the middle of a battle," Wedge scoffed.  
"They are not armored, are they?"  
Wedge snorted. "A Star Destroyer is a warship, but they probably don't take the time to blast-plate their garbage bays... you want to blast your way into the destroyer through their trash compactor?"  
"It would be a surprise to them, would it not?" Kenji said. "A lightsaber can cut through anything, I have heard. We do not even need to make a hole big enough to alarm them. All we need is a doorway."  
Corran paused. "I think I'm impressed," he finally said. "That's one hell of an idea, I must say."  
"How do we get onto the Destroyer without getting fried by the radiation from the engines?" Luke asked.  
"We crash, of course," Kenji said.  
"Assuming you mean intentionally crash, how do we make it look real without killing ourselves?" Wedge asked skeptically.  
Instead of answering, Kenji shot back, "Do you have a better idea?"  
Wedge ground his teeth in reply. Garbage compactor it was.  
  
Well, this is the last chapter for about the next week or two; I'll be unable to reach a computer until then! Keep reviewing, because that spurs me on to even greater exploits! lol...  
  
-Sci-Fi Nerd 


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14  
  
"I have reports for the Grand Admiral," Captain Pellaeon said loudly as he ground to a halt in front of Thrawn's private ready room aboard the Chimera, datacards clenched tightly in his fist in case of a sudden appearance of Ruhk. The plain durasteel plating slid aside almost noiselessly. Cautiously, Pellaeon looked all around the chamber within- and the ceiling, too; he was not one to forget an ambush- and stepped forwards.  
"Enter, Captain Pellaeon," mewled a voice, and Ruhk appeared almost magically by his side, a half-sized gray statue of pure death. Despite his braced state, Pellaeon still almost dropped his burden.  
This time he did not even deign to respond to the ugly slate-colored alien and strode furiously through the secondary door into Thrawn's inner chambers.  
They were not filled with art as compared to previous times Pellaeon had visited Grand Admiral Thrawn; only the two curious alien statuettes that had occupied him for weeks remained. A large holoscreen dominated the massive desk the Grand Admiral sat at, and colored blips and stars moved about in slurred curves and right angles to invisible impetus.  
"Come in, Captain," Thrawn said distractedly, eyebrows furrowed deep into his hairline as he studied the artwork and battle analysis playing out on the holoscreen intently. "You have information, yes?"  
Pellaeon strode forward and snapped his heels together smartly as he held out the datacards. "Final analysis reports from Bothawui, sir," he said. When Thrawn did not take the cards from him, he set them at his side on the desk and took a deep breath. "Projections estimate that no more than four functional vessels left the battle scene to flee to the rebels, and the planet itself is relatively unharmed in terms of infrastructure."  
Thrawn finally turned his glowing gaze to Pellaeon. "Military hardware?" he asked.  
"Heavily damaged but usable, sir," Pellaeon winced as he replied. "The shield generators were the worst hit: only four of twenty are online to any serious defensive capacity. A large portion of the ground-based turbolasers were captured intact, but ion cannons and missile platforms are generally rubble."  
"Pity," Thrawn said. "We may have to spare resources if the rebels decide to retake the world. But it can't be helped. Anything else?"  
"Good news at last, sir," said Pellaeon. "Rebel activity has died down somewhat, and as a result, we've been able to fully pacify eight more sectors and free up six Star Destroyers for active combat duty."  
"Excellent," Thrawn said. "They will prove useful in the future."  
"I'm certainly grateful for the respite, Admiral," Pellaeon said. "Regardless of how well they know it, the rebels are a tremendous nuisance to us." *And they'll be more than that soon enough*, he found himself thinking darkly.  
Almost as if in echo, Thrawn said, "They will certainly become more problematical very soon, Captain. Such a quiescence is not usual for our stalwart rebel friends. The only explanation is that they are getting ready for something."  
Pellaeon nodded stiffly. It was one thing to think it deep down, but a wholly different thing to have it said. He said, "The Fleet is invincible, thanks to you, Admiral. There is no way the rebels can defeat us."  
Thrawn chuckled softly. "Do not walk too high on pride, Captain," he said. "The Fleet may be the finest combat force in the galaxy, yet they are not invulnerable, especially when separated into their component armadas."  
"Surely you know where and when the rebels are going to strike next?" Pellaeon asked. The cognitive powers of the new Empire's leader were well- known, and had risen to almost deific status.  
"I am not omniscient, Captain," said Thrawn, "but this time, I do believe I can guess their goal."  
"Then there is naught to worry about, is there?" Pellaeon didn't like the uneasy sound of his voice.  
"There are many unknowns yet, Captain," Thrawn said. "The rebels will strike directly at us as hard as they can as soon as they can."  
"Us?" Pellaeon laughed. "Coruscant?"  
"Indeed," Thrawn said softly, still deep in contemplation.  
"I agree that they must be planning some sort of operation," Pellaeon said. "But to attack Coruscant? Are they insane?"  
"Captain, think of Bilbringi," Thrawn chided him again. "That was a nearly identical situation, and they went boldly into one of the most heavily guarded Imperial worlds of the time. The fact that the fire is hot does not mean that the clever man refuses to go through it."  
"That's ludicrous," Pellaeon said with a snort. "There is no way that they could hope to succeed, even if they brought every ship they had available into this system."  
Thrawn waved back to the artwork and displays. "That's why they have help," he said softly, and Pellaeon barely caught another snort before it escaped him.  
"You assume they will call on their erstwhile allies?" Pellaeon asked. "No single species' forces have withstood the Imperial war machine. Why should this change now?"  
"It may be we are facing a rival force," Thrawn said quietly. "The data extracted from the scuttled craft was sadly incomplete, and not much remained. These two representations of art and a few basic maps and battle directives were all that remained."  
"You can dissect them just as you can any other species' artwork, sir?" Pellaeon asked with trepidation. If the Admiral could not unravel the ways of a new enemy... the blow to morale alone would be disastrous.  
"With time, yes, I can," Thrawn said bluntly. "However, I believe that time is the one commodity we are short of. Things are coming to the boiling point, captain. The battle for Coruscant will be more brutal than the one which restored it to Imperial rule."  
"How can we assume that they will have enough to take the planet?" Pellaeon said. "If they are attacking Coruscant, that is."  
"One of the maps taken from the captured data is fairly fragmented, but still gives a clear enough representation of space," Thrawn said, swiveling to the holoscreen and tapping a key. A fuzzy, distorted map of the galaxy appeared. Recognizable were several zones of color denoting allegiance... and a large blue area that overlay the sectors simply marked as Wild Space on similar Imperial maps.  
Pellaeon was aghast. "An entirely new territory?" he said. "These aliens have explored all that?"  
Thrawn nodded. "And if you follow the scheme of the rest of the map, Captain, it would appear they also hold sway over this area of space. Such a race would be a formidable opponent indeed, with resources not necessarily strained by war and troops ready to fight."  
Pellaeon felt a sour feeling deep in his stomach. "Then the battle will be difficult."  
"Our largest challenge yet, Captain," Thrawn said. "I have little glimmerings to offer on how it will flow. We will have to rely on discipline and traditional fighting techniques for now." He turned further, the large back of the chair eclipsing his blue form. "Begin calling in the fleet groups, Captain, but warn them only to prepare to move to Coruscant. We must not frighten the quarry."  
"Very good, sir," Pellaeon said. It was heartening to have any sort of plan to distract oneself from the uncertainty the morrow would bring. "How many of them should I delegate to the defense?"  
"Alert all two hundred Destroyers of the Core Sector Fleet to begin preparations for launch. Post twenty additional warships in this sector ; make sure at least eight are Interdictors." Pellaeon nearly gasped. Two hundred Star Destroyers, readied to fight over one planet? The fighting would be vicious indeed, if it came to that. "Fifty more are to begin routine patrols of the Inner Core within fifty light years of Coruscant."  
Pellaeon swallowed roughly. "Yes sir," he said.  
Thrawn swiveled back, smiling ghoulishly through his thin lips. "Fear not, Captain," he said sibilantly. "The Empire shall reign supreme yet."  
"Yes sir," he said again, not at all confidently, and left the room.  
  
"Wedge?" came Luke's voice from the other side of the modified Skipray blastboat that the insertion team was currently perfecting for espionage, and Wedge cracked his skull on the underside of the hull as he jumped. Cursing under his breath, he peeked further under the ship to see Luke's surprisingly merry face poking out boyishly from the other side.  
"What?" he asked peevishly. "I'm almost done calibrating and shielding the airfoil detonators."  
"Remind you of old times?" the Jedi asked again, his tone and manner hearkening back to his youthful days before the First Death Star.  
Wedge growled in his throat, and then smiled back. It did indeed. The hangar chambers of Black Hole Base were bustling with all sorts of activity; every combat-ready ship (and even some that weren't) was being prepped for launch in less than twelve hours. Already the In'ca Din'ca fleet of almost two hundred battlecruisers was hanging ready in the space surrounding Black Hole Base's asteroid shell, and occasionally resistance craft flitted between the black hulks. Only a few genuinely rebel ships were enlisting on the mission, the bulk of them being shy of fuel or crew or just unfit for combat after so short a respite.  
Wedge could vividly remember the final few minutes before liftoff to the Death Star... "You're required to maneuver straight down this trench, and skim the surface to this point," General Dodonna had told them then. It had never been an easy mission (most had thought it an impossible dream, the Rebellion's last bout of insanity before defeat); Wedge himself had even commented on it. "That's impossible, even for a computer," had been his disparaging remark. Luke's blithe denial had not only comforted the others, it had ended up saving the galaxy.  
The smile that had crept onto his face quickly turned into a grimace. The list of casualties seemed to Wedge to stem from that battle, his first major engagement. Jek Porkins, Biggs Darklighter... so many promising pilots.  
  
Luke must've seen Wedge's glum look, for he smiled reassuringly and said with irrepressible Jedi calm, "The garbage port has to be bigger than a womp rat."  
Wedge blinked, taken aback, but he quickly turned into a head-shake and a rueful laugh. "Just make sure you don't turn off our computers," he chuckled, and set back to work.  
With another few twists of the hydrospanner he was holding and a few quick clicks of his datapd, the wing charges had been set and armed. Though it was the only way to 'crash' convincingly, Wedge would always be conscious that he was piloting a heavy ship loaded with high explosives, and that didn't sit well in his stomach.  
"All units, this is General Bel Iblis," boomed a voice from the overhead announcement system. "Prepare for immediate launch."  
"What?" Wedge yelped, slipping and barely catching himself on the wing cowling to prevent an undignified fall to the greasy hangar deck. "We're not supposed to launch for another eleven hours!"  
"This is not a drill," the speaker continued. "Please prepare for immediate launch. The flight controllers will give you coordinates."  
Luke popped up on the other side of the ship. "Must be a security thing. If there's any spies in this base, they'll be totally wrong about the attack timing now."  
Wedge grunted. "I guess so. Where's the team?"  
"Right here," burbled Kenji Ba'dasahk's deep voice, and Wedge looked down to see Corran, Kenji, two Noghri, and three dark, hooded figures standing by the main entry ramp.  
"Who're the cloaks?" Wedge asked shortly. Last-minute plan changes never went over well.  
"I am Jedi Master K'talla M'niisonn," said the first hooded figure, and a massive female In'ca Din'ca pushed her hood back and stared up at Wedge. "We have offered to accompany this Knight on his mission. His welfare interests us."  
Wedge widened his eyes in surprise. Jedi were a welcome resource, but... he looked over at Luke. The Jedi considered for a second, and then nodded his head once sharply.  
"All right then," he said. "Welcome aboard."  
As the six other members of the team filed into the Skipray, Wedge leaned over to Luke and Corran and said, "I don't like having new variables this late in the game."  
"They're Jedi," Luke said. "They're protectors of the peace. You can trust them."  
"It still smells bad, Luke," Wedge said. "Just remember, we still don't know for sure if all of them are genuine. Last minute changes are never good for the plan."  
"I'll watch out," Luke promised.  
"Well, then," Corran said with a deep breath. "We'd better get set for launch. We have a Grand Admiral to kill and a war to win."  
  
Thanks very much for reading, and please remember to review! I always welcome constructive criticism and even plot suggestions, so keep them coming. If you don't have room in the review, just send me an e-mail at dictionary_000@hotmail.com! Thanks!  
  
-Sci-Fi Nerd 


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15  
  
"We have launched," the first voice emerged roughly, bringing the other two of the small group into the connection with a mental snap.  
"Everything is in motion?" asked Two in the thought equivalent of the whisper. A gentle wisp of emotion from One conveyed the intense impression of rolled eyes and a frown.  
"The game is begun," One confirmed. "One more of the commanders is under our control, but the others are not fully leashed."  
Three emitted pleasure like a glowlamp. "Within hours, there will be nothing in the universe that can stop us," it gloated. "Even the remnants that will resist will be helpless."  
"Be cautious," One grated out, impatience bleeding clearly into his tone. "That human is more resistant and clever than you believe. If we are not careful, one slip could send us into ruin."  
"I fail to see what impact he may have. Half-tr–"  
"You are a fool!" burst out One, while Two's silent mirth echoed in their minds. "Have you learned nothing from the histories of Emperor Palpatine? Power is not an indication of victory."  
"Not to mention wit," broke in Two, "or lack thereof," it added slyly. Three's rage would have flayed the other, but One's mental command, the analog of a heavy slap across the face, brought calm to the gathering again.  
"I vow," One seethed, "that if either of you forgets the plan to pursue an agenda of sabotage against each other, I will be forced to torture you slowly before you die in great pain."  
"Of course," came the muted replies.  
A pause followed. "We are arriving in less than an hour," One said. "Are you all in position and confident of your assignments?"  
"Yes, Great One," the two juniors replied in unison, with the equivalent of a bow occupying the forefront of their thoughts. One's warm and yet oppressive pressure cowed the two further.  
"Excellent," One said. "To battle and victory!"  
  
The shattered blue-white sky of hyperspace swirled in the viewports of the Skipray blastboat as the Rebel assault fleet hurtled towards the distant world of Coruscant. Wedge had never found the effect nauseating like some of the other pilots in his command, and in fact sometimes, it near put him to sleep. He felt drowsy enough as it was.  
Plastics creaked as Luke settled himself in the chair beside him with a tired sigh, locking his arms behind his head. The Jedi seemed... content and at peace, unusual for him what with the situation so serious.  
"So, this is it," Luke murmured, eyes closed.  
"Well," Wedge said, turning back to look at the hyperspace vista outside. "Depends on what you mean by 'it' doesn't it?"  
The young Jedi turned a quizzical eye on his friend. "Excuse me?" he asked, confused.  
"What do you mean by 'it'?" Wedge pressed on. "Do you mean that this is the final battle, or the beginning of a turn of events, or is it just our last effort to try and keep the Empire from overwhelming the galaxy?" Or, his mind warned unconsciously, the final death of the long, hard-fought Rebellion.  
"I don't know," Luke said, frowning again. "I don't know why I said that." His earlier calm had disappeared, replaced by a brooding curiosity. "Maybe..."  
"Maybe what?" Wedge asked.  
"Maybe it was a message from the Force," Luke finished somewhat quietly.  
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Wedge said. "Thrusters on neutral for a nanosecond there, big boy. A message? Since when does the Force send holograms?"  
Luke flinched slightly, and Wedge was instantly sorry. The whole last few weeks had been hectic enough as it was, and it wouldn't be right to dump his anxieties out on Luke.  
"Sorry, Luke," Wedge said softly. "I'm kinda on edge here; Thrawn does that to a person."  
"I've had visions before," Luke said, seeming not to have heard, "but not actual messages or directions, necessarily. It's more like... like someone tugging at your wrist to lead you onto the proper pathway."  
Wedge grew interested. "So where's it tugging us right now?" he asked.  
Luke closed his eyes again. "I'm not sure," he said. "This whole campaign has been a blur from start to finish. I don't even know if I'm following the direction of the Force, let alone the fleet or the galaxy."  
Wedge thought for a few seconds. "Luke, you've been saving the galaxy a long time. No one can handle that all the time. Maybe the Force is trying to tell you to, I don't know, let things work out on their own."  
"That doesn't strike me as part of a Jedi's work, though," Luke said. "Jedi are supposed to be guardians of peace and justice, working for the benefit of all. We're not meddling power-seekers, but neither do we stand by and let innocent people get hurt in situations beyond our control."  
This was a new train of thought for Luke, one Wedge hadn't heard before. Never had he seen the young Jedi so concerned about cause and effect, or his actions and whether they were precisely the right ones.  
"What's got you spooked, Luke?" Wedge asked.  
Luke glanced at him guiltily. "Is it that obvious?" he whispered, chagrined.  
"Not really," Wedge told him. "It's just that you look kind of melancholy and withdrawn."  
Luke sighed. "It's those In'ca Din'ca Jedi," he confided slowly. "They've been studying the Force and the Jedi way for much longer than I've been alive, but for all of that, they are not much clearer on doctrine. The sense I get is that they have lost some of the crucial keys to Jedi life in their isolation. They don't feel quite... right, to me."  
"Is it sinister?" Wedge asked, pulse racing. If Luke thought they were bad news, why had he allowed them on board the Skipray.  
Luke shook his head slowly, blond hair rippling. "I don't think so," he said. "It's more the kind of thing that you'd get from a half-feral human, one who's forgotten some of the ways of civilized people."  
Semi-rabid, then. Wonderful. "Are they going to complicate things?"  
"I don't think so," Luke repeated. "Actually, with their knowledge of Jedi techniques and lightsaber mastery, we should consider ourselves lucky to have them along. We need all the help we can get."  
"Just so long as we get that signal out on time," Wedge said. He checked his instruments. "Better go back and tell the rest to strap in; we're dropping out of lightspeed in thirty minutes, and I want everyone briefed and ready by the time Thrawn starts throwing TIEs at us."  
  
"You also possess Force skills," a deep voice burbled behind Corran Horn as the former CorSec investigator was readying the last of his commando gear for the mission ahead. His hand had half-yanked the old lightsaber that had belonged to his grandfather from his belt before he recognized one of the In'ca Din'ca Jedi that had boarded the mission at the last minute.  
Calming his breathing and turning back to his hefty equipment pack in irritation, he said, "Yes," shortly and with as much acerbity as he could muster.  
"Why have you not chosen to learn?" the Jedi rumbled, and Corran could feel the other's hazy presence in his meager Force sense as the In'ca Din'ca moved closer to Corran.  
Securing the final strap of the large bag, Corran turned and sat on the edge of the long shelf that all of the team's gear had been stowed on in the modified rear of the Skipray blastboat, looking up at the tall alien.  
"Never had the time or the reason, I guess," he said, trying to sound nonchalant. Those years spent looking for the Lusankya survivors until Thrawn came along still stood fresh in his mind.  
"But surely you would consider it an honor to train in one of the oldest and most prestigious groups of history," the Jedi pressed on.  
"Oh, I would consider it an honor," Corran said, crossing his arms. "At the time, I had other things to do. Once we've dealt with Thrawn, I think I might take up lessons with Luke."  
"Skywalker?" the In'ca Din'ca asked. "He is a great Knight, but has no experience in the instruction of Jedi ways. I do not impugn him," he said quickly as Corran's eyes narrowed, "merely illustrate that you might find it easier to educate yourself with those who have more of the teachings available to them. We have not preserved all of the ancient Jedi arts, but we have done our best to reconstruct them as faithfully as possible. I suspect even Knight Skywalker would learn things from us."  
"Why not just teach Luke and then let him teach me?" Corran challenged him.  
The alien blinked. "Why take the bother?" he asked confusedly. "There is no need to instruct one to instruct others when two can be taught at once."  
"Do you all give up this easily?" Corran asked vengefully, and as his feeble mental energies felt the shields surrounding the other's mind flicker, he stabbed with an untrained, but lightning fast, probe. He had only had a few lessons from Luke, mainly in the use of lightsabers and the concentration of his mind, but Corran had always been studious and eager to apply new knowledge. He'd drank in everything Luke had told him after the Bilbringi debacle.  
He felt a quick tingle of surprise as his mental jab hit home, and then he only caught a few vague impressions before a steel wall of resistance flung him from the In'ca Din'ca Jedi's mind.  
Unfortunately, the telekinetic side effect of the blast also smashed him against the wall, and he blacked out.  
  
"Reversion in thirty minutes, Corran," Luke called through the open doorway of the rear portion of the blastboat as he hurried on to assure himself of the rest of the team's readiness.  
No answer.  
The young Jedi skidded to a stop, and stretched out with his Force skills as he strode back towards the room. There was indeed a human presence there, but one that was not answering.  
"Corran?" Luke asked, this time peering around the doorjamb to look inside the storage section carefully, every sense on alert for trouble. "Corran!" his questions changed to shocked exclamation as he saw the other man lying against the far wall, his gear scattered beneath his feet.  
He ran over, running a hand over Corran's head to feel for injuries. He didn't seem to be hurt too badly, only a bump on the head and a few bruised ribs, but being knocked unconscious was bad even without serious bodily harm done.  
"Corran!" he called, lightly brushing the other's mind with his Force touch, and Corran began to stir, groaning as he struggled to sit up.  
"Sithspit," the pilot hissed through clenched teeth as he ran a hand through his mussed brown hair. "That was one heck of a fall." He winced as his fingers prodded a particularly sore spot.  
"You feel okay?" Luke asked. "What happened?"  
Corran winced again. "Not so loud, friend," he implored, and then his expression changed to puzzlement. "I think I fell checking my gear. Stupid really; I should know better than to fall."  
Luke laughed slightly. "Everyone makes mistakes," he said. "Are you all right? We have reversion in less than thirty minutes, and we'll be going in hot."  
"Yeah, yeah, I'll be okay," Corran said, easing himself into a crouch and then standing. "Let's just get this over with so I can enjoy whatever time I can with Mirax."  
"You got it," Luke said, slapping his friend on the shoulder and striding quickly out of the storage area.  
Corran frowned, shook his head, and then began picking up his gear, puzzled at the strange vagueness of his memory of the fall. 


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16  
  
Wedge clenched his teeth, conscious of the slightly nervous presences of Luke and Corran just behind his pilot's seat, and sure that at least one of the strangely aloof and haughty In'ca Din'ca Jedi was standing imperiously at the rear of the cockpit. The angular numbers on the realspace countdown clock seemed to flicker by faster than ever: 10, 9, 8...  
"Here we go," Wedge whispered to himself, and triggered the levers that brought the Skipray blastboat out of hyperdrive and into the already thickly-clustered space around the planet Coruscant.  
The combined resistance and In'ca Din'ca battle fleet had emerged in a formation of staggered phalanxes, two spears of Mon Calamari battlecruisers and heavy In'ca Din'ca carriers driving hard at the planet, while another four formations of the In'ca Din'ca behemoths moved out to encircle the ten Imperial Star Destroyers orbiting this hemisphere of the planet.  
"Strap into the turrets, people!" Wedge called out as he kicked the large assault ship's heavy ion engines into overdrive. The modified boosters shoved the bulky craft forward towards the thickest portion of the burgeoning firefight, where Thrawn's defense forces were backing into a cluster to share shield energy.  
"Luke, get on the sensors and get me a lock on the Chimera!" Wedge ordered tersely as the first wave of TIEs boiled out of the Star Destroyers' hangar bays to meet the onrushing resistance starfighters. The In'ca Din'ca did not feel the need for as many starfighters as the resistance customarily used, and thus the few ships the resistance had left would be hard pressed to defend the large cruisers from the smaller assaults.  
"On it!" Luke called back as he threw himself into the seat behind Wedge. "Corran, get the torpedoes ready and I'll dump you targeting data when I can!"  
"I've only got six of the missiles, Luke!" Corran shouted as a near miss from a heavy turbolaser battery singed the shields and jolted the ship. "Make the shots count!"  
Alarms screamed through the cockpit as the sensor boards lit up with a pulsing wave of red signals. "What the-?" Wedge exclaimed.  
"Reinforcements!" Luke answered back. "Almost a hundred and fifty Star Destroyers with smaller support vessels! Came out right on our tails!"  
"This complicates things a little," Wedge hissed as he fed as much energy into the engines as he dared. The decking was starting to vibrate with the stress put on the ship, and Wedge hoped that they actually would be faking their crash.  
"TIEs coming up on our rear!" Corran warned.  
A series of percussive thuds from overhead told Wedge that the rest of the infiltration crew had begun to get the laser cannons online and firing. However, the sheer amount of starfighters would make any effective resistance difficult.  
"Luke?" Wedge called out. "Where is that flagship?"  
"Got it!" the other called back. "Bearing 32 mark 65, IFF transponder 4435DDX9!"  
Wedge glanced down at his monitors. The Chimera was less than four kilometers away, easy flying distance and at the heart of the biggest firefight Wedge had seen in years. With a strange sense of exhilaration, he pointed the bow of the Skipray at the roiling cloud of laser fire, and gunned the engines.  
"Here we go, boys!" he crowed, and the assault ship outraced the TIEs who had been expecting evasive maneuvers and planned accordingly. By the time the starfighters recovered from their error, the Skipray was well beyond their reach.  
  
"Reinforcements are here, Admiral," Pellaeon said, still shaking off the awe at the Grand Admiral's deadly accuracy once again. "Deploying to configuration Delta 5 now, sir."  
"Excellent," Thrawn said. "Inform Planetary Defense that firing lanes 3,7, and 11 are now clear for Plan C, and then scramble all TIEs to make runs on the Rebel ships."  
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon said.  
Thrawn stared at the displays for another few moments, thinking silently. Then he stirred. "Captain, how many assault craft or troop ships are the Rebels displaying?"  
"Uh," Pellaeon said, glancing at his board and keying in a quick status check. "At last count, 12."  
"12..." Thrawn murmured. "Where are they all located?"  
"Eleven of those were last seen near the Interdictors. Captain Brandei assumed they were making runs at his interdiction capability and is attempting to deal with them. The last..."  
"The last is in the vicinity of the Chimera," Thrawn concluded quietly.  
"What?" Pellaeon said, checking his board again. The Admiral was right. One mid-sized blip was dancing through the boiling crowd of starfighters that engulfed the battling cruisers of the two fleets. "Are they insane?"  
"Obviously," Thrawn's eyes glittered. "I want that ship destroyed now."  
  
The fizzle of sparks that burst from the overhead panels as the latest turbolaser graze shorted out systems started a flare in Wedge's hair, but he quickly shook his head to extinguish the spark and concentrated on steering the wounded Skipray closer to the Chimera's garbage port. The Star Destroyer and her starfighters had taken a huge interest in the assault ship all of a sudden, and the nearby Rebel ships were having a hard time diverting all of them.  
"Almost there," Wedge gritted his teeth.  
"Hand over the controls, Wedge!" Luke's muffled voice came, and he glanced sideways to see the rest of his team already clothed in their vacuum suits. "Time to get yours on!"  
"Right!" Wedge said, sliding out of the seat as Luke grabbed the controls. "I only need another twenty seconds of flight, so get us as close as possible to the garbage chute!"  
"Easy for you to say," Luke muttered to himself as he took the controls and stretched out with the Force. The soothing flow of energy helped calm his jangled nerves, but fear leaked into the edges of his forced calm. He shunted it away brutally.  
A thousand pinpricks of emotion and sensation flooded his mind. The adrenaline rush of pilots chasing each other in circles through storms of laser fire, flashes of pain as craft disintegrated, and sometimes tense slivers of fear puncturing otherwise reckless minds.  
The Skipray blastboat was a far cry from the fast, nimble X-wing he'd so famously destroyed the Death Star with, but then again, his Force- enhanced perceptions had also come a long way. The TIEs were no match for his reflexes, with their evasive maneuvers begun before the pilots started their attack runs.  
Pulling out of a series of rolls, Luke punched the throttle when he saw the bridge tower line up with his viewports. Two turbolaser bolts burned their way across his rear shields, and Corran yelped as sparks sprayed out of the overhead panels. Luke fought for control as the compactor shutters loomed fast in his vision.  
Slowing the damaged blastboat at the last instant, Luke smashed the assault craft lightly against the rear of the destroyer, detonating something deep within the craft at the same time as releasing the preset smoke clouds that would hopefully indicate their destruction. Furiously slapping at control panels, he shut down every last one of the ship's systems and ignited his saber to slice open the viewport as Wedge darted back into the cockpit.  
The team followed the Jedi out onto the surface of the mighty warship.  
  
The blip flickered once, right on top of the Chimera, and then disappeared from the board.  
Pellaeon smiled. "The troopship is gone, Admiral," he called back to Thrawn's seat. "Reports from Delta Leader indicate that it crashed onto Chimera's engine area. The last turbolaser salvo crippled it."  
"Indeed," Thrawn said quietly, not smiling or giving any hint of elation at this perceived dismissal of a threat. If anything, he frowned more severely.  
  
The two stormtroopers at the end of the corridor fell smoking, rimmed in blaster fire, and Wedge breathed his probably tenth sigh of relief since his and Luke's party had separated to draw fire. Corran turned and gave him a shaky grin, and then sword softly and moved up to cover the In'ca Din'ca Jedi pair that had been assigned to guard their commando group.  
One of the large aliens gestured quietly to a large door on the left side of the now-empty hallway, and the other nodded. Corran, Wedge, and the two other insertion troopers moved out to provide cover fire for the two Jedi to break down the door.  
With a last look at his partner, the first Jedi thrust the purple lightsaber he bore into the doorframe, wrenching it through multiple control lines. The door slammed upwards in its tracks, and the team piled through.  
The half squad of stormtroopers and the three officers inventorying the weapons stacked against the far wall had already picked up three of the heavy blasters and begun spraying hot light at the incoming Rebels. Only one bolt got through the blurred screen of the two Jedi's lightsabers, but Wedge felt the heat and heard a strangled grunt from behind him.  
Wedge got off one shot, albeit one that stabbed into the far wall without making any appreciable contribution to the fight, before the Jedi had cut down every last one of the Imperials.  
For several seconds, the three non-Jedi stared at the smoking corpses. Corran toed one nervously and whistled softly.  
"You guys are fast," he murmured. Wedge nodded numbly in agreement. "Never seen anyone that good with a melee weapon of any kind."  
"Excellent," said one of them. "Some of you will not again."  
From his fingers leapt blurred streaks of lightning. 


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter 17  
  
A final sputter of blaster bolts flickered out at Luke and his team, but they were all swatted down by K'talla's whirling blue blade before the wielders themselves were cut down by her economical attacks. Behind them, the corridors of the Chimera were becoming littered with the scarred and blasted bodies of stormtroopers and Army commandos as the strike team lead the way towards the command tower of the massive warship.  
The commandos slid up against the wall, and Luke jerked a thumb soundlessly at the wall panel visible across from them, feeling his anxiety increase noticeably. The further on this mission went, the more ominous his feelings seemed to become. If only he could get a clearer sense from the Force...  
One of the soldiers crept over to the computer and fed a datacard into a slot wordlessly, reaching out to tap the keys with his gloved hand, a blaster now slipping into his left fist.  
Luke glanced over at K'talla's massive form. She was not even breathing heavily, and her massive eyes were devoid of expression as she scanned the hallways. Luke could feel the tendrils of her consciousness stretching out. If any more threats showed themselves, they would know it.  
Unless they moved ysalamiri into place. Fortunately, many of the Empire's remaining ysalamiri had died on Wayland, and Luke fervently hoped they were not harvesting and equipping their ships with more of the creatures.  
"Got it!" hissed the man at the computer panel. "Thrawn's chamber, deck 3. I have...shavit!"  
"What now?" Luke asked softly. They could not afford to be caught out of place now.  
"Blocked my access," the commando grunted. "They know we're here now."  
"Better get moving, then," Luke whispered to himself, and wordlessly beckoned the rest of the strike team to follow him to the nearest turbolift shaft.  
  
"You were right, Admiral," Pellaeon said stiffly as he peered down at the young officer's display board. He felt the shadow fall across him as Thrawn stepped up beside him. "Intruders detected on deck 15, attempting to access main computer. We've locked them out, sir, but they managed to get at least a partial download."  
"Has security been able to identify the intruders?" Thrawn asked speculatively.  
"Uh," Pellaeon said, reaching over to tap a quick command in. "Nothing positive as yet, sir. There seem to be two groups of Rebels now inside the Chimera, Admiral. One is heading consistently towards the main reactor, but the other wanders slightly."  
"Indeed," Thrawn murmured to himself, eyes half lidded.  
"Admiral?" Pellaeon asked, hoping that this was merely another stroke of genius oncoming rather than an actual bafflement at the situation.  
While he was waiting, a blast shook the Star Destroyer. Pellaeon whirled to glare into the crew pit. "Report!"  
"Two Mon Cal cruisers have crossed into lanes 4 and 7, Captain!" shouted a dark major at the conn station. "They're trying to use their ion cannons to clear a path for their starfighters to breach the Golan perimeter!"  
Thrawn turned to regard the major. "Move the Inexorable into lane 5 and have them run interference, major," he ordered. "Then have planetary defense call the Golans into a shorter orbit."  
"Admiral," Pellaeon broke in quietly. "That will give them a window to sit at the shield edge and blast away to their heart's content." Another detonation illuminated the entire bridge as a pair of X-wings flared into incandescence.  
Thrawn merely glanced at him. "Then, detail Fleet group Three to jump insystem on a course consistent with the Rebel's positioning," he finished.  
  
"Yes, sir!" the major saluted smartly and leapt to give the orders.  
"Captain," Thrawn continued, turning back to Pellaeon. "We must gather all the ysalamiri that we have on board and transport them towards the command tower immediately."  
"Ysala-?" Pellaeon floundered. "Skywalker? Here?"  
"He is the only one who has both the knowledge of the Chimera and necessary skill to infiltrate this far unchecked," Thrawn noted. "Recall his escape with Talon Karrde."  
Pellaeon frowned. "But sir," he asked. "Why the ysalamiri here?"  
"Because they have decided that the best way to win is to chop off the head of the snake," Thrawn explained patiently. "That is the only explanation for such a foolhardy strike on a ship that they know they cannot hope to destroy by a mere commando team."  
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon sighed, and moved to give the orders.  
  
The strike team managed to get to Thrawn's chamber almost all intact, though one man lay dead at the opening of the corridor, and another nursed a graze of the arm with a blaster bolt. For such a vital area of the Empire's flagship, the halls here were uncharacteristically quiet. By this time, Luke's warning sense was practically overwhelming him, and his lightsaber never left his palm.  
Both he and K'talla moved to bracket the door that was indicated on the map as Thrawn's personal suite, though the décor gave no such indications. Thrawn had never been one to do things blatantly or in the usual manner.  
Strangely, the door opened quiescently enough, and the remainder of Luke's team filed somewhat haphazardly into the small chamber beyond. A second manipulation of controls, and they were in.  
The room was not lavishly furnished, but neither was it plain. The duplicate of a Star Destroyer captain's chair sat in the centre of a wraparound console more suited to a warhip than a set of living quarters. Various holoprojector relays were visible around the room, but no significant security measures could be found.  
With his lightsaber still on guard, Luke moved cautiously to the displays around the chair, and activated the power system. A hum built to a low drone, and the room lit up.  
The display panel was currently blank, and all the lights blinked placidly, regardless of the growing tremors of space battle detonations as the Star Destroyer rolled with the punches the combined fleet was delivering. Luke pressed a series of keys that looked familiar, and the HoloNet icon blazed into view on the screen.  
Licking his lips, Luke stared at the controls a few seconds more. Then, guessing blindly and trusting to the Force, he hit a combination that he hoped would allow the message to be broadcast over all Imperial channels related to Grand Admiral Thrawn. Double-checking that he was indeed on Thrawn's personal channel, he began to speak.  
"This is Luke Skywalker, son of the Lord Darth Vader, on board the Grand Admiral's flagship," he began with what he hoped was proper authority and confidence. "To any Noghri who may hear this message: I call for you to rise up against your masters and show them that the Noghri will not be slaves any-"  
With a fizzle of static, the holo-display died.  
Luke frowned. He'd hoped to continue broadcasting to make sure any Noghri heard him, but that should have been sufficient if there were any within range of the transmission.  
"We are done, then?" K'talla asked slowly, moving slightly towards him. Luke, strangely, did not feel any less worried now that the task was complete. If anything, his feelings of doom increased.  
"Well, as done as can be," Luke said, an unpleasant conclusion forming slowly in his mind. "I guess we should make our way towards the-" he never finished the sentence.  
With a crackle of igniting lightsaber, K'talla leapt forward, the In'ca Din'ca Master's blade slicing in from overhead at Luke.  
Luke barely managed to light his weapon and block the attack as he stumbled away from the display ring, shock fogging his mind. No, it couldn't be; not the only Jedi he might ever find left after the Purge. And the other thought; how could he have misjudged them this badly?  
Landing confidently from her massive jump, K'talla flicked a hand delicately backwards, washing both of Luke's commandos in a wave of blue flame that quickly dropped them to the floor and extinguished itself quickly, taking with it their lives.  
Stunned, Luke barely managed to deflect the next series of furious strikes. It was obvious that his ally was actually a Dark Jedi, but how had she concealed herself for so long? Why did he not realize?  
Then, he felt a surge in the Force, a wave of pain.  
Corran.  
"You see, half-trained Knight Skywalker?" K'talla said calmly as she crashed down upon him, causing him to stumble. Luke rolled away somewhat clumsily, reaching for the door's activation panel, but it refused to open. "There is no way to escape from this. You may as well give up now." She struck again, a lateral, lunging blow that Luke hopped above as he circled out of her range.  
"I have faced the greatest focal point of the Dark Side the galaxy has known, K'talla," Luke said steadfastly. "You do not frighten me." And, truth be told, he was surprised to discover that that was the truth. Yes, there was still shock at his error, but there was none of the fear or anger that his encounter with the Emperor had elicited.  
The In'ca Din'ca Jedi sneered and pressed the attack again, swinging massively with the bright blue lance of energy. Luke parried both strikes, and then slashed backhanded at her midsection, forcing her to step back or else be impaled.  
"Enough of this," she growled, and raised her one hand to unleash Dark Side energy at him.  
The door blew in with a clash of explosives and rending steel.  
Both Jedi turned to regard the sudden interruption, but Luke used the distraction to duck out of sight behind the display, pitiful cover though it was.  
"Cease battling, Jedi!" ordered a cultured, sharp voice. Thrawn. Strangely, Luke could not feel their presence, and his stomach sank. Ysalamiri had been brought to deal with the meddlesome Jedi.  
Luke stood up to view the tableau himself, but he moved too soon.  
Unblinking, K'talla struck.  
A wreath of paralytic lightning struck Luke as he rose, throwing him back over the panel to crash painfully in Thrawn's chair. The pain lessened for a second as he gasped for breath and reached for the Force, but another blow struck him.  
"I ordered you to cease!" Thrawn snapped again, and K'talla turned to regard him with the arrogance and authority of many years of Dark Side mastery.  
"I do not heed your command, Imperial," she sneered.  
"You will," Thrawn said quietly, in a deadly monotone. "Or you will be cut down where you stand." Luke felt his sickness worsen. Through blurred vision, he saw Thrawn's troops: two squads of heavily armed and armored stormtroopers... and a gray-skinned Noghri, standing calmly at his side.  
"Do your best," K'talla said calmly. "I fear you not."  
"Very well," Thrawn said, stepping back. "Open-"  
"I am the son of Darth Vader!" croaked a half-paralyzed Luke. "Help me!"  
"-fire!"  
Luke collapsed backwards as the scene dissolved in chaos.  
  
He woke painfully, feeling somewhat pushing and pulling his body into an uncomfortable position. A groan escaped his lips. It was like after Endor all over again.  
"You must wake, son of Vader," a pained voice growled at him. "Quickly."  
Tapping tiredly into the Force, Luke washed the blurriness from his eyes to find the blood-smeared face of Thrawn's Noghri bodyguard staring down at him, teeth set. "The door will not hold forever."  
Luke blinked further, and found that he had been levered into the cockpit of a TIE Interceptor. A vacuum suit made for the fighter had been haphazardly thrown over his body, and the helmet rested uncomfortably on his chest.  
"What happened?" he groaned.  
"A fight," coughed the Noghri, and blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. "The Grand Admiral yet lives, and the ysalamiri I have set up at the hangar entrance will not hold the barricade against your foe's weapon. You must leave, now!"  
"But my friends-"Luke protested.  
"There is no time!" the Noghri spat. "You are honorable, but your people have need of you yet. Go, and avenge your friends in days hence!" With that, he dogged the hatch of Luke's fighter closed, and raced towards the entrance.  
Heart tearing as he did so, Luke put on the helmet and looked at his controls to discover that the fighter was already prepped for launch. He thought hard. Was there no way to somehow save the rest of his friends? Corran, Wedge, and others doubtless hurt, captured or dead?  
A flash of light came from the entrance to the nearly vacant fighter hangar as the tip of a lightsaber began to burn through a pile of heavy equipment set up against the thick blast door.  
Luke felt a lump congeal in his throat. He had to escape. He owed it to what was left of the Republic. He owed it to the Noghri who was going to die to let him escape. He owed it to the Force.  
Luke's TIE screamed out of the bay as K'talla burned through the last of the barricade and reached out to burn the life from Rukh's body with a single blaze of dark flame.  
  
Less than ten minutes later, the Imperial forces withdrew from the planet Coruscant, suddenly finding themselves besieged by a renewed and more coordinated assault by a section of the In'ca Din'ca armada. However, once the white warships of the Imperial Navy had retreated to leave the planet to the Rebels, the guns of those same In'ca Din'ca battleships were turned towards tired Rebel cruisers and unaffiliated In'ca Din'ca craft.  
Luke, roaring through the renewed firefight, broadcast wildly on all Rebel frequencies. "All loyal forces, withdraw!" he screamed. "There are Dark Jedi in control of part of the armada. All forces, withdraw!" 


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter 18  
  
Corran could feel a slow pulsing as of blood in his temple, but he didn't think he was cut. His eyes were either unable to open or temporarily blinded, as blackness filled the space around him. Something, rather, somethings down in his abdomen felt either fractured or severely stressed, and he could still taste the iron tang of his own blood.  
A weak attempt to raise himself into a sitting position resulted in an exhausted collapse back to the hard, cold surface of wherever he was being kept. He coughed tiredly and tried to force himself to think.  
He remembered the harrowing infiltration of the Star Destroyer and the entrance into the armory chamber...  
That was it. He could vaguely recall one of the In'ca Din'ca Jedi thrusting hands outwards to throw sizzling lightning bolts at him and the rest of the team. He remembered throwing himself and his lightsaber in front of some of the bolts to protect Wedge from the assault, but his mind blanked soon after.  
Light flooded into the cell, and Corran winced. It was just like being back in Lusankya after his capture by Ysanne Isard during the early stages of the war. She, too, had kept him in a black cell, cold and...  
He realized then that just like that previous time, he was once again naked.  
Blurry vision only allowed him to glimpse the intruder who suddenly entered as a tall, black form with glinting eyes. The shape of his captor halted, haloed in a nimbus of artificially bright light, and seemed to look down at him.  
"Corran Horn," a throbbing voice spoke. Corran remembered it, but couldn't place it in his still-fractured memories. "You are a fortunate man."  
Licking his lips, Corran tried to grunt out a response.  
"Rot...in...Hutt slime," he gargled, and then coughed heavily, feeling something tear inside of him.  
"I must admit," the voice continued, "that having a new species of prisoner to turn is entertaining. The insults and defiant clichés grow so weary when one hears the same ones."  
Corran took a deep breath and reached out to the Force.  
"Oh, good, you are yet intelligent enough to know when to resist and when not to," the voice rambled on, and, almost carelessly, a heavy slap came out of nowhere to land on the side of his head, banishing both coherency and the Force with a single ringing blow.  
When his head cleared of static again, Corran discerned that the figure was again talking.  
"-will make a wonderful ally."  
He fought for strength. "For... you?" he croaked. "Not likely." Another cough.  
The voice tutted gently. "Oh, falling into the pattern already? Come now, I know you have been interrogated by Isard. You must know how it goes: I promise, you resist, I break you."  
"Isard... is dead," Corran got out defiantly. "If the Force... is with me... you will... be as well... soon."  
"Aha, now there is where you are wrong, Force-sensitive man," the voice shot back. "You cannot possibly defeat me. I have it within my power to lift you up or destroy you."  
A wash of Force energy flowed out from the figure, and Corran could feel the healing rush blow through his body, mending the badly injured portions of his anatomy and clearing his brain for thinking.  
Blinking to clear his eyes of the crust of long sleep, he looked up at his captor, K'talla M'niisonn, Jedi Master.  
  
The last of the Rebel and unallied In'ca Din'ca craft vanished with a flicker into hyperspace, and the commander of the lead battleship turned to his second-in-command.  
"Order all ships to stand down," he hissed. "Inform the Master that the Coruscant system is now ours."  
  
This was by far the worst debacle yet, Pellaeon despaired. A sudden turnabout in the decks of his own Star Destroyer, and the Fleet was forced to flee for their lives from the combined power of the aliens and the Rebels. Reports from other sectors indicated that sudden revolts by Noghri – damn them all!- had taken out many of the prime commanders, and many of the battle groups were being routed by smaller Rebel and alien forces.  
"Do not worry, Captain," Thrawn's smooth voice came from his command chair, once again seeming to read Pellaeon's thoughts. "The battle is far from over."  
He turned to the helm officer. "Tell the Fleet to realign course when we drop out of hyperspace," he ordered.  
"Where to, Admiral?" Pellaeon asked, a stirring of hope alive suddenly in his breast.  
Thrawn's eyes glittered. "The Unknown Regions," he said softly, in that oh-so-confident tone of voice that had told Pellaeon less than a year previous that this man, this genius, held the key to the domination of the galaxy.

_One enemy has been beaten back, yet has the failing Rebellion loosed upon the galaxy an even darker monster? For Corran Horn, at least, the struggle has only grown more bitter, as he resides in the captivity of a new breed of Dark Jedi, vicious and well-prepared to conquer the galaxy. Thrawn seems to also be prepared for such a conflict, and only the Rebels and their weakened allies are caught unawares.  
  
The battle for the galaxy has just begun.  
_

Thanks for reading this Fanfic, everyone! I apologize for a huge delay on the last couple of chapters, but a bunch of school trips and studying ruined my schedule. Look for a second part to this story coming soon, entitled: Fading Embers.  
  
May the Force be with you!  
  
-**Sci-Fi Nerd**


End file.
